


Did You Want This Back?

by SinisterSound



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: A lot of cursing, Betrayals, Eden is (more) tired someone save him, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Espionage!au, Firefights, Getting Together, Guns, Hongjoong is flirty, I proofread myself so there will be mistakes, I still do not know how to tag, Kissing, M/M, On the Run, Seonghwa is tired, Sexual innuendos, Sort Of, Spies and Espionage, Spy Agencies, Spy!AU, The author tried to challenge herself and immediately regretted it, Violence, a big process, cursing, it’s a process, sexual activity, they’re all spies, you’ll understand when you get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-31 20:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 111,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: Seonghwa was a good intelligence agent. He could pick, coax, and pluck gain any piece of information he needed.Provided Kim fucking Hongjoong didn’t choose to fuck him over.Hongjoong was effective in getting out whatever intel he needed from his partners. And he had no problem going through as many partners as it took.Though operating on the same side of the law, the two can’t seem to help but clash in a violent show of anger and seduction.Circumstances cut that feud short, though, as matters more important than petty grudges arise and force the two into territory neither was prepared to handle.When you stab someone in the back.... be careful not to leave the knife in. They may now find it more useful than you.





	1. A Shitty Fucking Week

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back~~~  
> I know I sort of promised an epilogue with this, but I’m working on it, so don’t lose hope!  
> This entire thing is a result of me trying to challenge myself in writing action, more explicit things, and more concrete, realistic scenes. I am completely open to constructive criticisms throughout this! I am trying to get better!  
> I know my updates tend to come quicker (within a week) but these will likely be a lot slower because I want to make sure I’m getting right because I suck at writing like this. Everyone was so kind about my last fics, and I want to keep providing that!  
> Enough talking! I hope you all love and enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think!  
> -SS

The club’s bass pounded hard enough to shake the glasses perched precariously close to the edge of the tables by intoxicated hands that cared much more for dancing than cup-safety. 

Seonghwa moved through the crowds with ease, smirking at each man or woman who trailed their eyes up and down him- curious and willing. 

Well, he should hope so, given how hard he had worked to put together his outfit of leather pants that hugged his hips and ass perfectly, a billowing button up that was slightly sheer and gave only a hint of what was underneath, and dark eyes he had carefully lined  peeking out from under artfully, sex-mussed hair. 

One woman approached, the scent of alcohol overpowering whatever fruity perfume she had doused herself in. Her hair was everywhere, but thrown over her shoulder in a provocative gesture as she ran a suggestive hand over Seonghwa’s shoulder, making him pause his trek. 

“You came here alone, sweetheart?” she slurred, eyes glossy and dark. Hot fingers gripped at the back of his neck. “Interested in leaving with someone?” she whispered, leaning up and pressing her gloss-sticky lips to his ear. 

Seonghwa simply smiled, taking her hand from around his neck and using it to spin her until her back was pressed to his chest and he could whisper in her ear. “Sorry,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear over the booming music that pounded against them. “I just got here. I’m still looking for a little more fun.” 

She tilted her head back, lips tracing his neck. “I could show you fun,” she promised. 

Seonghwa let go, guiding her away, lips quirked as she made a disappointed groan, giving him a glare that was accented with her cherry-red lips pushing out in a pout that he supposed was supposed to be persuasive. 

Seonghwa nodded to her, continuing towards the bar, and dodging other hands that grabbed at him possessively. He was only here for one person. 

The music of the club was almost background noise, easily ignored as he wink at one man whose eyes lingered just a little too long on his ass as he passed. He stopped at one end of the bar, ordering something fruity, and taking it with a charming nod to the bartender as he made his way down the line of barstools. It was that easy to find one woman sitting along a row of drunk people slumped over the bar or making out with each other. She sat alone, chin resting on her hand, a deep blue dress clinging to her like a second skin. 

Her hair was pulled away from her face, but allowed to fall freely down her back, and Seonghwa tugged on it gently as he slid up beside her. She glanced around, frowning, and found him smiling at her. “Evening,” He greeted, sliding the drink to her. She glanced at it, considering it and then him for a moment, weighing attraction, drunkenness, and a desire to do what everyone came to a bar to do. 

“Hey, stranger,” she greeted, leaning towards him. Her eyes were unfocused with intoxication, but her words did not slur. “You don’t look like any of the other guys who come through here…” She tilted the cup, sipping it quietly. 

He chuckled, leaning against the bar. “And what do most guys who come through here look like?” 

“Boring and disgusting,” she sighed, as if she had been sleighted in the worst way. She lifted a curious eyebrow. “I’ll make this quicker for both of us: how into getting… experimental are you?” she questioned, her eyes interested as they trailed over the single popped button at his throat. 

Seonghwa laughed, and he saw her respond well to the sound, lips curling up as if she had won a lottery. He leaned in, grin wicked as his nose brushed hers. “Let me put it this way to you,” he murmured in a low voice that made her visibly shiver, “I could have fun in ways you haven’t even imagined yet.” 

She giggled, looking excited as she slid arms around his neck, pulling him closer and searching his face hungrily. “I’d love for you to show me.” 

Seonghwa laid a hand on her waist, leaning forward until he could kiss her exposed shoulder. “I like a woman who knows what she wants,” he chuckled. “You seem like a very interesting woman.” 

“I can be whatever type of woman you want,” she laughed, warm lips pressing to his cheek. 

“I like a smart woman,” he whispered. 

She leaned her head away, exposing her neck. “Should we play teacher?” she laughed. “You wanna ask me questions? Each one I get right, I’ll get a reward, ‘kay?”

“And each wrong-” He nibbled at the warm skin of her neck, making her giggle- “Maybe you’ll be punished.” 

“Oh, I am so down for that,” she hissed, sharp nails digging into his shoulders through his thin shirt. 

Seonghwa grinned. Bingo. “I’ll start,” he said, hand trailing behind her to splay across her back. “First question: What is 3 x 5?” 

She laughed excitedly. “I thought they would be hard. Fifteen… Is that right, sir?”

Seonghwa nodded. “What sort of reward should I give?” 

The woman answered by grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a wet kiss that had no coordination as she leaned against him. Seonghwa allowed her to do as she pleased, counting down until she pulled away. “Next question?” she panted against his lips. “Make it harder this time.” She punctuated the statement by shift her knee to press gently against his crotch. 

Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with himself. “Second question: Do you know what hostage negotiation is?” 

The woman surprised him as she suddenly pulled away, face twisted in amused confusion as she held onto his shoulders, laughing darkly. “Am I being pranked?”she asked. 

Seonghwa’s composure did not break. “Why would you say that?” he questioned, still running a hand along her back. 

She tilted her head. “Then is this like a new kink out on the market or something?” She leaned back, taking a hand off of him to pick up her drink and take a long sip. 

“What do you mean?” he inquired carefully. 

She finished, shaking the bitter taste of alcohol from her tongue. “You’re the second guy to ask me about hostages and stuff,” she said, frowning. “I mean, the other guy was great- it didn’t kill the mood at all- but it’s weird, don’t you think?” 

Seonghwa straightened, anger bubbling gently in his veins. “Who was the other guy?” he asked cordially, voice even. “Is he still here?” 

The woman shrugged, looking passed him. “I don’t know, some guy I’ve seen around a couple times before…” She squinted to see through the dim lighting. “Um… yeah, he’s still here, he’s right there.” She pointed over Seonghwa’s shoulder. “At those tables over there.” 

Seonghwa turned quickly, mentally begging for her to be mistaken- 

At the tables, half-hidden in the shadows but clearly visible for someone who was looking for him, Seonghwa saw a man already watching him, grinning over the rim of his cup filled with dark liquid. 

Seonghwa’s expression hardened as he pulled away from the woman. He would get nothing useful out of her. “Hey!” she cried over the bass. “Where are you going? We weren’t-” 

Her voice was lost to the music as Seonghwa pushed his way the short distance to the tables, not even sparing the man a glance as he grabbed him by the arm, dragging his slim body up out of the booth and dragging him through the bar, practically shoving people aside, grip tight enough to bruise the man’s arm. 

“Wow, Seonghwa, you know how much I like it rough.” 

“For the love of God, if you say a word, I will end you,” he snapped, turning back to glare as he shoved the door to outside open and yanked him along. Frustration and anger coursed through his blood as he practically threw the lighter man towards the wall of the club. He barely stumbled, catching himself and turning towards him extravagantly

Hongjoong smirked dangerously with all the finesse of a cat whose mouth was covered in cream. He cocked a hip, one hand with daintily painted nails coming to rest on it as he looked Seonghwa up and down. “Are you actually going to push me against this wall or will you leave me in suspense?” 

Seonghwa’s hand twitched, wishing for his gun to still be at his hip. Hongjoong laughed at the movement, loud and enthralled. “You can’t shoot me, Seonghwa,” he reminded him. “What sort of chaos would that cause among your people?”

“I can still strangle you,” Seonghwa reminded him darkly. 

“Ah, but you know that I’m into that-” 

Seonghwa’s hand gripped Hongjoong’s collar and jerked him forward, eyes deadly as his nails dug crescents into his hand. Hongjoong smiled at him, unbothered. “Are you finally going to take me against a wall? I’m down for hate sex.” 

It never stopped with Hongjoong. He always had to have the last laugh, always had to slip in the final word- 

“I’m not the bad guy, remember, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong reminded him, reaching up to pat his cheek tauntingly. Seonghwa jerked away, glaring daggers. “We’re on the same side.” 

“Then you know my agency gave me clearance for that woman a week ago!” Seonghwa snapped, voice carefully low but loud enough to show his anger. The dark alleyway they had stumbled into echoed slightly, but no one was around to hear it. 

Hongjoong shrugged, lifting a delicate hand and trailing his fingers along Seonghwa’s wrist  gently. “I got clearance too. I just got to her first.” 

“I’ve been clear for days, tracking her. If  _ you  _ got clearance, you could have gotten to her  _ days  _ ago,” Seonghwa hissed. “You  _ waited  _ for me- you waited just to fuck me over.”

“Oh, Seonghwa, we both know how much I would love to fuck you ov-” 

Seonghwa shoved him away, scoffing with disgust as Hongjoong caught himself and shook his head, straightening a shirt that made Seonghwa’s seem prudish in comparison. “Rude,” He sighed, flicking nonexistent dirt off of his pants that must have been spray painted on. He lifted a carefully sculpted eyebrow among his thin, impish face when Seonghwa could only glare at him and just want to destroy everything that came along with Kim Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong was Seonghwa’s worst nightmare and most persistent irritant. 

Hongjoong was elegant. And Seonghwa was hesitant to apply the word to anyone but old Joseon leaders, but he was. He walked and held himself as if the entire world was beneath him and he was here to own it. Every flick of his wrist, every cock of his eyebrows, they were purposeful and carefully placed and regal. 

“Staring a little too long, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong reminded him, turning slightly and giving a view of the curve of his ass and the leather stretching across it. “Interested in something?” 

Seonghwa wanted to hit him. Clothes clung and cinched at a tiny waist with hips that were sinful the moment a beat was heard. Or without it. 

One of the most common places to meet Hongjoong was at sex-joints like these. Mingled among the bodies that threw themselves over each other, pressed between a body and a wall, smoky eyes and curled lips drawing out secret after secret like he had nothing to lose. That was Hongjoong’s specialty. Maybe it was just an added bonus that he fit the scene so well. 

Flamboyant movements and fun-loving eyes with eyebrows that danced with innuendo as he grinded on whatever body he chose. A long, pale neck that was exposed as he threw his head back in laughter, in dance. Sheer clothing and barely-teased skin exposed just enough to distract and allure whatever party he was interested in gaining information from. 

Seonghwa could fit in with any crowd- it just happened that club scenes were easy to emulate, but they always made him unsettled, compared to acting like he belonged within certain office buildings or apartment buildings to sneak his way around. Hongjoong, though...

His entire body screamed sex and club music and climbing men and women alike as if he owned them. High laughter and a body that seemed to be made to fit between others. 

It made Seonghwa sick. It made him angry. Because Hongjoong could never leave that side of him behind. It followed after him, stuck to his skin so close until Seonghwa couldn’t be sure he  _ ever  _ lost it. 

“The next time I see you meddling with my targets, I  _ am _ shooting you,” Seonghwa warned as Hongjoong finally stopped presenting himself, frowning. “I don’t care what side you claim to be on, if you’re messing up  _ my  _ missions, you’re obstructing my goal, which means you are on the opposing side.” 

Hongjoong simply rolled his eyes. “You really need to get laid,” he sighed. “Seriously, all that talk you put on at the club, but there is something wedged so firmly up your ass. Take the stick out and replace it with something more pleasant alright?”

“Is there anything that can ever come out of your mouth that isn’t vulgar innuendos?” Seonghwa hissed. 

“Well, I have a lot more things coming  _ in  _ my mouth, rather than out-” 

Seonghwa turned on his heel and marched away, sleek boots clicking on the sidewalk as he walked out of the alley. Tonight was a complete waste of time, just because Hongjoong had to try and fuck with him- 

“Absolute dick,” Seonghwa cursed, coming out onto the mostly empty street with only a few tipsy stragglers trying to get home. 

Seonghwa had no issues with whatever lifestyle Hongjoong chose to live. If he wanted a different stranger in his bed every night, fine. If he didn’t care what was between their legs, fine. If he wanted to utilize his sex drive to get information out of whatever target he was given,  _ fine _ .

But Seonghwa could not stand his flipancy. The Hongjoong that treated all this like a game. As if he could get underneath Seonghwa’s feet and just laugh because it was fun to do so. 

As if they didn’t play with and hold people’s lives on a daily basis. 

Seonghwa took his job seriously. If the mission required him to have sex with some stranger to gain whatever they needed, he would do it. And Hongjoong sitting there, acting as if Seonghwa’s dedication to  _ saving lives  _ was something tedious and boring- 

He wanted to rip his hair out. And then Hongjoong’s- his stupid, long, mullet  hair that was always unkempt from people’s (and his own) hands dragging through it. 

Seonghwa found his car at the end of the street, parked and waiting, and opened the door, slamming it shut as he started the ignition. He should go to the agency and report, but he was so irritated, he just started driving towards home. 

He was currently holding himself back from grabbing the gun in his glove compartment and following through on his threat to Hongjoong, ethics be damned. 

After a few minutes of silence and the irritation fading none, he jabbed his finger at the touch screen on the dash, scrolling through his contacts and hitting Yeosang’s name a little too hard. The phone rang once. Twice. Th-

“Oh no,” was what he was greeted with, voice muffled by the car speakers. “It’s only ten o’clock. What happened? Why are you already calling?” 

Seonghwa’s hands flexed on his steering wheel as he glared out the windshield. “I need you to make a report for me and turn it in to Eden.” 

A short silence. “You’re done already? Why aren’t you coming in to do it?” 

Seonghwa sighed sharply, hitting his head back against the headrest. “I’m currently a little too pissed to make an accurate report. I’ll either just write one big  _ ‘fuck _ ’ across the page, or go off about it in person to Eden’s face, and I don’t feel like being reprimanded for either.” 

He could practically see Yeosang frowning. “You’re pissed? Did it not go well? Did you-” He cut himself off, and there was a low sigh. “Please tell me Hongjoong wasn’t th-” 

“Yes, Hongjoong was there!” Seonghwa snapped, taking one hand from the wheel to run through his hair, ruining the hair spray perfection. “He fucking waited until I was supposed to go in, and got the woman to talk before I ever got there! And then has the audacity to flirt with me as I’m trying to fucking yell at him!”

“Hongjoong always has the audacity,” Yeosang muttered before speaking louder. “He didn’t share whatever he found out?”

“He never does,” Seonghwa scoff, leaning back in his seat, coming to a halt at a red light and hitting his head against the wheel. “Yeosang, I swear to God, I’m going to rip off his dick so he can never fuck another thing ever again. Then he’ll be useless and finally go away.” 

There was a silence that Yeosang didn’t know how to fill, and Seonghwa just breathed out angry breaths until he moved forward again, only ten minutes from his apartment. “So… what am I supposed to write in the report? ‘Send hit after Kim Hongjoong as per request?’” 

Seonghwa wished. God, did he wish he could get the okay to take out that fucker. But he sighed. “No. Open it with saying the mission was a failure. Say what I told you-” 

“In less colorful terms,” Yeosang agreed.

“-And just… just turn it in and tell Eden I’m sorry for fucking it up. I can try another suspect who supposedly spoke with the woman I was supposed to be getting info from. Try and arrange for Wooyoung to track him down.” 

“Yessir, Boss,” Yeosang said sarcastically. “You’re heading home?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Be careful. It’s always a little riskier when missions don’t go so well…” 

Hongjoong had never once attempted to harm Seonghwa. Well, never underhandedly harm him. The two of them, despite their head butting, were both on the proper side of the law. That meant they left their homes and families and friends out of it. 

(That did not stop them from pulling guns and firing bullets when one of them stepped a little too far outside their lines.) 

(That also did not stop reminders that both of them knew where the other lived, though they would never and had never taken advantage of that knowledge. Hongjoong played dirty but not with his personal life, for some reason.) 

“I will,” Seonghwa assured him, blinking hard. “Goodb- Oh, Yeosang,” he broke back in. 

“What’s up?” 

“Do me another favor: talk to Wooyoung about tracking Hongjoong’s next move.” 

“Hyung, you can’t start another game of one upping each other. Eden will have a field day.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “I’m not one upping him,” he stated firmly. “I’m ensuring that he understands what he did tonight. This was important information that we needed, Yeosang. And he fucked it up just because he could.” 

Silence. A quiet sigh. “I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “But he’s working with Yunho on other stuff, he might not be available to satisfy your little revenge crush.” 

“It is not a cru-” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hyung, sorry it went badly, bye-” He cut himself off with hanging up the phone, and Seonghwa swore he would add Yeosang’s name to his list, just below Hongjoong’s. 

The list only consisted of Hongjoong’s name, but it meant that much more that Yeosang was the second name to be added. He drove in silence, trying to quell the anger in his gut but it was so damn hard when Hongjoong was involved. 

He pulled up to his apartment building, parking in his usual spot (so glad that the asshol in 3B hadn’t decided to steal it for the third day in a row) and turned off the car. He took a moment, resting his head against the steering wheel. 

Hongjoong had swept the rug out from under him. Which meant he knew when Seonghwa planned on being at that club. Which meant someone was feeding him information. 

Most likely Eden. 

Eden was a good man, a better agent, and the best at being a bridge between two agencies that tended to step on each other’s toes. Without him, they would have torn each other apart a long time ago. But as amazing at his job that he was, he was interested in keeping close, good relations with the opposing agency, and that meant having little meetings and updates on what their agents were up to. 

Seonghwa pushed his car door open, but only rested his legs outside it, pulling out his phone and clicking on an app hidden in the back of one of his folders. 

The camera feed from his apartment pulled up, showing a view of outside his door, barren and silent at such an hour. He clicked the screen. 

Living room. Bedroom. Kitchen. Bathrooms. Closet. All vacant. 

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Seonghwa hauled himself out of the car, the scent of alcohol still clinging to his clothes even after so short a time. His hair felt gross with the spray. He had a headache threatening. He walked up to the second floor (high enough to protect from ground threats, low enough to escape from above threats) and pushed his key in tiredly. He shoved the door open with his shoulder, stepping into the silent, pristine apartment. 

He never went home except to sleep, really, save for the weekends when he had more time to himself, but any mess he made was promptly cleaned up. He stood in the doorway for a moment, reconfirming that he heard nothing moving around. 

He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter, already stripping out of his shirt, flicking on lights and glancing around out of instinct than any real concern for there being someone present.He went to his medicine cabinet and grabbed some pain killers, popping two into his mouth to ward off the headache.  

He moved to his room, tossing the shirt into his laundry basket and sending his pants following. He gathered pajamas, stepping into the bathroom and turning the water on hot. He slid in without testing the water, immediately scrubbing the annoying hairspray from his head. 

Hongjoong got there first. Which meant he now knew who had organized that Detective Kim be the hostage negotiator that got ten people killed too easily. And he would never give that information up. Which meant Seonghwa was screwed unless the woman actually did talk to another man and spilled what she knew as a police secretary. 

He leaned his head against the tile wall. The anger had faded to annoyance, but now it was just exhaustion. He had already spent the entire day in meetings and assuring that nothing would go wrong. Now, he was sitting here, a failure under the pressure of a ticking time bomb. 

What if Detective Kim was assigned to another life or death situation? How many more would die? 

Seonghwa turned the spray  off quickly, stepping off and drying himself perhaps a bit too roughly. 

Hongjoong treated it all as a game. Did he truly not care that ten people were dead? Was he truly only focused on being a thorn in Seonghwa’s side just to giggle about it? 

He dressed, turning off the lights and sliding into his bed, staring at the ceiling. He stuck a hand under his pillow, feeling the cold metal resting beneath it and curled his fingers around the gun handle, simply ensuring that it was still there, and rolled over. 

Of course, he didn’t sleep. But he closed his eyes, which was better than having them open and staring at paperwork. He glanced over and watched the clock tick later and later and then earlier and earlier, broken by fitful sleep that never lasted longer than an hour. 

His alarm rang at 6 o’clock sharp, and Seonghwa silenced it, rolling out of bed with a groan and already dreading the mess he was going to have to clean up today. 

 

~~~~~

 

“Morning, hyung,” Yeosang greeted without looking up from his screen. “Reports from yesterday came in, there’s a file of potential locations of that suspect you wanted on your desk, and Yunho made coffee.” He accented it with a toast with his own mug of milk flavored with a splash of coffee. 

Seonghwa took the cup that was lifted into the air and took a swig (ignoring the disgustingly sweet flavor and just chasing the hope to obtain a quick shot of caffeine). 

“Hyung!” Yeosang gasped, snatching it back quickly and glaring, clutching it protectively against his chest. “Get your own! I had to fight Wooyoung for the last of the cream!” 

A couple of people at their cubicles glanced over at his loud voice, but ignored him quickly, minding their own business and filling the office with rapid typing. Seonghwa managed a smile despite his exhaustion. 

“Thanks for the update,” he said, heading towards the little kitchenette on their floor. 

“One more thing!” Yeosang called, making Seonghwa turn and cock an eyebrow. He took a quick sip of cream-coffee. “Eden wants to talk to you.” 

Seonghwa nodded calmly, but his stomach flipped. “Why?” he questioned carefully. 

Yeosang shrugged, looking uncaring as he turned back to his screen. “He just said to make sure you headed straight there when you got here.” 

Seonghwa sighed, already imagining a hundred different ways he would have his ass verbally handed to himself for his fuck up yesterday. “Well, it was nice knowing you, Yeosang,” he sighed. “I doubt I will see you again until you join me on the other side.” 

Yeosang hummed, lifting his cup once more, as if in farewell. He still did not look away from his screen, though. Seonghwa put a little star next to  Yeosang’s name on his list. “If you see Wooyoung, tell him he owes me more cream, though,” Yeosang added. 

“Yeosang, I have a gun on me.” 

“And I have coffee.” Another valiant lift of his cup. “But no more cream.” 

Seonghwa sighed, turning away without a word. 

“Thank you, hyung!” 

He swung by the kitchenette anyway, pouring a quick cup of black coffee into a little styrofoam cup and heading for the elevator. He was too well trained to be truly nervous, and he knew that no actual punishment would come from the lapse. 

But damned if it didn’t feel like a shit storm when Eden looked at you so disappointed. He felt like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. 

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out, automatically brushing his hand over the gun at his hip (instinct when entering an open area). He strode down the hall, nodding to vaguely recognizable coworkers he didn’t know the names of. 

Aside from Yunho, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Eden, he never had much use to interact with anyone at the agency- save to grab a file from them or request something be sent to him for a mission. Oh, no, there was Soobin on the first floor, he remembered. Soobin made copies for him when he needed it. (He only knew his name because the younger man stared at him angrily before demanding to know if Seonghwa knew his name. When Seonghwa said he didn’t, he made him learn it. He still was not sure why it was important.) 

At the end of the hall, Eden’s office stood, the door half-ajar, and Seonghwa knocked lightly as he pushed it open, sticking his head in. 

Eden was young, for his position. Seonghwa didn’t know his exact age, but compared to the greying, hunched men he worked with, Seonghwa didn’t think he was much older than himself. 

Eden glanced up from his computer, not smiling, not frowning, a completely neutral expression that could have been amused or stoic. His eyes (an odd light of either tired or bored, as usual) trailing over the coffee in Seonghwa’s hand, and he began to lean more towards amusement. 

“I thought I asked you to come straight here?” 

Seonghwa took a sip, shrugging. “I likely wouldn’t have made it here if I hadn’t put some amount of caffeine in my system.” 

Eden simply rolled his eyes gently, almost imperceptibly. “Well, I’m glad you’re awake, because we have a couple of things to discuss.” 

He pushed a file across his desk towards Seonghwa who stepped forward. “I swear,” he said quickly, “I had no reason to believe Hongjoong would attempt to interfere like that.” 

Eden lifted an eyebrow, ever-calm and collected. “Yes, Yeosang told  me about your… unfortunate encounter.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t help the frown that pinched his forehead. “When will you give me sanction to shoot him?” He wasn’t  _ entirely _ serious. 

“When you can prove him to be involved with terror,” Eden said, pushing the folder further. “Now, sit and let’s talk.” 

Seonghwa sighed, sitting heavily in the chair and pulling the manila file closer. He braced himself for a long list of consequences that had spawned or perhaps paperwork to fill out in regard to how conspicuously he dragged Hongjoong out of the club. That was sure to draw some attention. 

But when he flipped open the file, he only saw a profile page staring back at him. 

Name: Lee Donghyun

Weight: 72.5 kg

Height: 170.6 cm

Age: 68 

Blood Type: B Pos

Occupation: Korean-British Ambassador

Seonghwa frowned, already having memorized the slightly wrinkled face, greying hair, sharp crease from the curve of his nose to the corner of his mouth, small eyes. He knew Lee Donghyun. Anyone interested in politics did. 

He was rumored to be accepting large sums of money from the British. For what, they weren’t sure, since he had yet to make a drastic move that could potentially benefit the British more than their own country, but it put him smack on their radar to keep an eye on. Lately, he had been quiet, as far as Seonghwa knew. The only appearance he made in the news of to discourage this new wave of isolation-craze that had seized the nation since the most recent news of their Western allies attacking increasingly defenseless countries and states. 

People were disgusted with the world, and a little too quick to excuse their own actions, demanding that South Korean simply withdraw and keep to itself, copying their neighbors to the north. 

Donghyun, as an ambassador with the British, was of course in the front of demands to keep in contact with their outside neighbors. Strength in unity and unity across distances, he fought. 

There was a bill attempting to be passed, to isolate them, first, from most of the Americas, and then Europe. The reaction was a free for all, and no one could tell which side had the potential majority vote. But Seonghwa knew that if they cut themselves off from the world, they were screwing themselves over. North Korea didn’t care if South Korea was its practical brother. Some of the only things  keeping their attacks at bay were threats from countries larger and more violent than their own. Losing that protection would quarantine them with a disease that was already among them, and they had just closed and locked their one door out. 

Donghyun and a select few politicians understood this and were fighting the bill. 

It won him no favor, and no one was quick to trust a man rumored to being bribed by the British. His social standing among ordinary citizens plummeted rapidly. However, despite his questionable money gains, he was one of the few people opposing the ridiculous notion to recede from the world. Which meant they needed him to keep doing what he was doing.  

Seonghwa shifted the page, looking at blueprints tucked behind it.  _ Commercial Center Outline.  _

“Why… does this seem like the type of information we’re given for infiltration and removal?” he asked slowly, a heavy stone settling in his stomach. 

If the agency told him to kill Donghyun… Well, Seonghwa wasn’t a robot only programmed to obey, but ultimately, he could understand there must be reason. But Donghyun was on their side, technically, regardless of how he stood with the law. None of them wanted to cut themselves off from the rest of the world. The agency was adamant about how much this action would open them up to anger and violence from around the world. Would killing Donghyun really be necessary? 

But Eden shook his head quickly. “It is not infiltration and removal,” he assured him. “It’s protection.” 

“Protection,” Seonghwa repeated, glancing up. “As in security detail?”

It was far from Seonghwa’s expertise, but he wasn’t lacking in the skill either. Eden nodded. “You and a small team of four others will be at his next speech. You will be on stage with him. The others will be along the bottom. If you’ll look, there’s a page on positions.” 

Seonghwa flipped to it, scanning the little dots scattered across the diagram of a stage in a parking lot. “Isn’t this a little… overt for our usual dealings?” 

They worked in the shadows. Small influencers with big results. 

He shrugged. “My people tell me they want my best agents working to in the front lines for this event. They’re using regular law enforcement as well, but they won’t be anywhere near the man.” Eden leveled him with a serious look. “I want you to think about how serious that makes this. How important it is that this man  _ stay alive _ .”

It was unusual. It was strange. If Seonghwa did work security detail, it was from the shadows, not standing next to the man on a stage. But, regardless, he went where they told him to.  “What are these extra X’s?” he questioned, pointing to another five along with their own at the stage. 

“Other special security,” Eden said, leaning back. “Don’t worry about them, but you’ll be working together directly with Lee. The other fluff filler men will be out by the crowds and perimeter.” 

Seonghwa simply nodded, flipping to the last page. Paragraphs covered it with tiny font to fit it all on one page. He squinted at it. “What’s this?”

“Lee’s speech. Read through it, understand what sort of reaction it might encite, and he prepared to counter that if need be.” 

This truly was not Seonghwa’s area of control. He was intelligence. He gathered intel (occasionally needing to silence someone here or there for their own sake) but he stuck to the non-explicit and the persuasive. He  _ could  _ operate in the middle of a firefight, but he didn’t  _ want  _ to.

But he nodded, turning to the front page again and staring at Donghyun. “When is the speech?”

“Tomorrow.” Seonghwa glared at Eden who lifted his hands placatingly. “You weren’t supposed to even be a part of this. I planned on having you deal with the aftermath of last night. But I got a call that said to put my most reliable negotiator and guard on the team, and that’s you, Seonghwa.” 

Things like that had stopped bringing pride to him long ago. He simply sighed, rubbing at tired eyes and taking another long drink of coffee that burned too hot in his throat. 

“Look, I’m sorry to throw this at you last second, but there are people higher than me pulling this thing together and they don’t want anything going wrong. And nothing should go wrong. Most people there will likely be supporters. But I need you prepared.” 

Seonghwa nodded. “It’s fine,” he said, a blatant lie but one that Eden didn’t call out. “I take it I’m no longer going after that secondary source for last night?”

“I already had Yunho transfer the documents you would need to Wonho. He’ll take care of it while you focus on this. I want your full attention here, Seonghwa.” His eyes flashed from light to heavy. “Donghyun may be one of the last remaining people fighting this isolation bill. We need to keep him on our side and alive.” 

Seonghwa’s objective was always the same, regardless of his mission: keep as many lives untouched as possible. Keep people alive, keep people unaware, keep people safe. 

“Then, I would like to get started on reviewing all of this,” he said, closing the file. “I’ll report to you before I leave on everything I come up with.” 

Eden nodded, and Seonghwa stood, draining the last of his coffee and already planning how to space out the six more he would need. He nodded, turning towards the door. “Seonghwa.” He turned back. Eden stared at him levelly. “Remember… There is our side and their side. We have to work together and protect our own side. Regardless of how much we may disagree with those we work with.” 

And Seonghwa was not an idiot. He knew what Eden was talking about. “I am not really the one who needs to hear that,” he said shortly. “I’m not going around snatching Hongjoong’s informants, defiling his evidence, ruining his missions. He is the one who can’t seem to understand we’re on the same team.” 

“You threatened to shoot him.” 

“He took my intel! He risked human lives just to laugh at annoying me!” Seonghwa said, perhaps a bit too sharply for someone so high above him, but Eden had always been lenient with stuff like that. But he reined in his anger and swallowed it. He respected Eden too much to continue to yell. “I am willing to work with whomever I need to, in order to save whatever lives we can,” he said firmly. “I’m professional enough to set aside those kinds of refusals. I just want to keep people safe.” 

Eden nodded slowly, eyes appraising. “I’m glad we both understand that,” he said. “Now, go get started and report back what you think of it all.” 

Seonghwa inclined his head, leaving with a wave of his empty coffee cup. 

He stared at the file. It was a slightly terrifying situation, but Seonghwa was nothing if not adaptive. This was not his usual scene, but he would take care of it as he always did. 

 

The speech was… slightly radical, at least it would be viewed as such. 

It did not use strong language, but the language it did use could very easily be twisted by the media. It talked of relying on allies, of making friends, not just war buddies. It highlighted all the things Korea relied on its Western allies for, and while it was all true and all valid, people would have a field day with it, thinking he was saying Korea could not survive on its own. 

It was nothing Eden didn’t already know when he called to speak with him quickly. It was good, if the crowd was mostly supportive. But if many opposers showed up, Seonghwa and his people might have a couple of issues with them. 

Their first priority was Donghyun. Keeping him alive and safe, regardless of how the crowd reacted. 

Seonghwa reviewed the blueprints until he knew them by heart- all the exits, entrances, paths, places where people should be, where they shouldn’t be. By the time the speech happened, Seonghwa would be ready to run their escape routes with his eyes closed. 

He returned home to his empty apartment and spent a good majority of the night memorizing the speech, noting which phrases would likely spark action so he could be prepared when they came around. Eventually, his eyes were tired enough to close, but he barely slept, as usual. And when he woke up to light streaming through his window and his work clothes still on with a migraine building from sleeping at his desk, he knew this was shaping up to be a shitty day. 

No shittier than any other day, he supposed, though. At least there was no Hongjoong this time to fuck it over. 

 

~~~~~

 

“ _ No _ !” 

Hongjoong grinned at Seonghwa, fixing his earpiece into place. “You don’t sound all that happy to see me,” he said, looking so fucking pleased with himself. 

Seonghwa was going to kill Eden. There was no way he didn’t know that the other five would be Hongjoong and his team. Likely, he kept it from him because he knew if Seonghwa found out, he would refuse to be here. 

And he was right. 

“How the fuck does someone like you get assigned to a security detail?” he demanded. 

Hongjoong finally dropped the wire, shrugging elegantly, as if it bothered him exactly none that Seonghwa looked ready to rip his head off. “I simply go where I’m ordered. My boss said jump, I asked how high.” 

How the hell was Hongjoong qualified to protect someone? Clearly, he must be good at fighting- there was no way he would be in these agencies if he wasn’t- but his expertise was definitely not useful here. He doubted any rioters could be seduced into calming. 

Seonghwa wanted to keep pushing Hongjoong until they reached a cliff, but he had about one minute to get to Donghyun and arrange all the routes he should be prepared to take. “Whatever,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Just… do not fuck shit up, Hongjoong. Donghyun is one of the only things standing between this entire country and a catastrophic mistake.” 

“Seonghwa, I am a trained professional, the same as you,” he reminded him, offended. 

Seonghwa glared. “ _ I  _ never used that training to fuck someone else over, though. Unlike some, I don’t get a kick out of endangering lives.” He pointed towards the stage. “Now, get your men in position and meet me in Lee’s waiting room.” 

Hongjoong grinned, saluting sarcastically. “I like it when you’re authoritative,” he chuckled, walking off with much too much sway to his hips, touching his earpiece to call him men into position. 

If Hongjoong fucked this up… Seonghwa would not be able to stop himself from ending him. He didn’t care where the lines were drawn. If Hongjoong pulled something, he would basically doom the country, and Seonghwa could make a pretty strong case for being involved with terror if he did that. 

Donghyun sat in a conference room at the Commercial Center, one of the few rooms that did not have any windows and only one point of entry. He nodded to the regular government men stationed at the door and entered. 

Lee Donghyun sat at a conference table built for twenty, looking nervous, but only betraying it with rapid tapping against the table. He looked up sharply at the door opening, relaxing as Seonghwa nodded to him. “Ah, you must be the Park agent they told me about,” he said, standing with a little difficulty, but that seemed to be mostly due to his age, rather than any real issue. He extended a hand and Seonghwa took it. 

“Park Seonghwa. I’m in charge of most of the security surrounding you on stage.” 

“And Kim Hongjoong.” A hand slid Seonghwa’s out of the way as Hongjoong appeared next to him, shaking Donghyun’s hand with a grin. “In charge of the other half of security.” 

Seonghwa resisted the urge to smack him, too aware of the man frowning in confusion at Hongjoong. “Uh… a pleasure to meet you both,” he said. 

Seonghwa took Donghyun over to the table, laying out the carefully drawn routes they had planned. Hongjoong, thankfully, remained mostly silent throughout it, only breaking in to reiterate something Seonghwa said. 

They finished the explanation just in time for a woman in a business suit to come in and tell Lee to get ready, he was on in five. 

The stage was out in the open air, in the parking lot, with police tape marking it off. People cheered when Hongjoong and Seonghwa brought out Donghyun, standing on either side of him and scanning the two or three hundred people gathered there. 

Donghyun stepped up to the podium and Hongjoong and Seonghwa took their places on either side of it. 

Seonghwa followed Donghyun’s speech, tensed and prepared to move. Certain things sparked a little movement of distress or confusion from the crowd, but no one made any attempt to come forward. Even the most dangerous parts of his speech that claimed they  _ needed  _ outside allies was only met with frowns and whispers. 

The sun was hot in the middle of the day, baking them in their black suits. Seonghwa wanted to glance at Hongjoong, see if he was even paying attention, but he refused to break his concentration. Donghyun began to wrap up his speech. 

“-In conclusion, I believe that we as a nation, as a people, and as a civilization, cannot fall victim to this dangerous mindset that we are invincible against all, and convince ourselves we have no need of anyone’s aid. Thank you.” 

There was clapping. Some people cheered. Seonghwa turned, gesturing for Donghyun to step down from his little microphone stand, ready to get him inside and- 

The familiar sound of a gunshot ripped through the air,  and Seonghwa went on autopilot, only having two thoughts: one- get to Donghyun. Two: where the  _ fuck  _ did someone get a gun? He lunged forward as Donghyun was already flinching- 

The familiar sensation of bullet tearing flesh racing through him, his shoulder lighting on fire, but Seonghwa only stumbled, lifting his head and blinking against the pain as Hongjoong forced Donghyun to the ground behind the podium, holding him there with his, admittedly tiny, body. 

“-Find whoever the fuck that was!” he was yelling into his earpiece. “Song, Choi, I need you both here now, we have an agent who’s been hit- Someone-” 

Another gunshot and Seonghwa dropped to the ground, crawling to Hongjoong. Adrenaline forced the pain away, but he would regret all this movement later. “Let’s go,” he hissed, grabbing Donghyun’s arm. He was trembling like a leaf, and Seonghwa prayed he wouldn’t have to try and carry him. “We need off this stage  _ now _ .” 

“Where were you hit?” Hongjoong demanded, getting off of holding Donghyun down, glancing behind the pulpit and gesturing to someone. 

“Not somewhere important,” was all Seonghwa said, pulling his own gun from his hip. “How the fuck did someone get a gun? How the fuck did any weapon-”

“You’re clear!” Taehyun yelled in Seonghwa’s earpiece. “Get him out of there!” 

Seonghwa didn’t wait to speculate, dragging Donghyun to his feet whether he was willing or not. He stumbled, but Hongjoong rose, taking his other arm. They bent him forward, leading him along at a sprint. Seonghwa spared only one glance back, as they were reaching the stairs of the stage. 

The crowd was in chaos, policemen directing people and searching for wherever the shot had come from- 

Seonghwa’s eyes, maybe accidentally, noticed one man. Like a bush in a cartoon that was obviously colored different- something telling you to pay attention to it. 

He dressed in jeans, a red, nondescript t-shirt, white sneakers. Hands stuffed into a brown leather jacket despite the heat of the day. Sunglasses hid his younger-seeming face, hair cropped short, like a military cut. Maybe 5’8”, slim, but not bony- 

The man stared back at him. 

Seonghwa’s foot slipped, not realizing they had reached the first step, and the three of them almost stumbled, Seonghwa cursing violently as he caught himself, Hongjoong glaring at him and urging Donghyun faster. 

They dragged Donghyun down the stairs. Ran to the Commercial Center. Got him in the conference room, locked the door behind them, both Hongjoong and Seonghwa redrawing their guns and aiming them at the door. Seonghwa’s ankle ached from where it rolled at his misstep, but that was the least of his problems. 

“What the fuck was that?” Hongjoong demanded, side eyeing Seonghwa but not looking away from the door. “You try and come at me about fucking things up, and then you trip going down the sta-” 

Seonghwa was already pressing his earpiece. “Donghyun is secured,” he reported, voice like ice. “Jisung, there’s a man in that crowd, I need you to secure him and  _ do not  _ let him go. Red shirt, blue jeans-” 

He rattled off the information until Jisung barked an affirmative, the line between them falling dead. “Fucking hell,” Seonghwa bit, glancing behind them at Donghyun sitting at the table, forehead pressed to it. He almost looked like he was praying. 

“You still slipped going down the stairs,” Hongjoong muttered, and Seonghwa was pretty sure this entire event was the only time he wouldn’t describe Hongjoong’s voice as “flirtatious” or “playful”. His eyes were hard, hands steady on his gun that was trained on the door. 

“That man was watching me,” Seonghwa said lowly. “He wasn’t running with the others. He’s involved, he has to be.” 

“Still slipped.” 

“ _ Hongjoong- _ ” 

“Can you keep an eye on the door while I check your shoulder?” Hongjoong broke in. “There’s a bunch of blood back there, but not enough to mean you got hit somewhere you’ve got minutes to live.” 

Seonghwa wanted to say to hell with whatever had gotten shot. He was still riding adrenaline, but not the life-or-death kind and he could feel the fire begin to ignite along his skin again. He side eyed Hongjoong darkly. “Have you even ever seen a bullet wound before?” 

Hongjoong smiled sarcastically, dropping his gun’s aim. “Just watch the door.” He stepped behind Seonghwa who sighed. He felt Hongjoong touching his shirt, shifting it, and waiting for some sort of comment about needing to take it off, but there was only silence. 

“Well?” he demanded. 

“Well, I’ll say you’re the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen.” Hongjoong stepped back beside him. “The blood’s everywhere, but the wound itself is just a deep gouge in your shoulder blade. If you hadn’t been facing sideways, it probably would have gone through your heart. It’ll hurt like a bitch- it probably caught the bone- but there’s no bullet, and the bleeding is slow enough, you’ll live until someone comes for him.” He jerked his head at Donghyun. 

The pain was sort of everywhere on his arm, so Seonghwa couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact location of the wound, and as much as he hated to trust Hongjoong’s judgement, he didn’t really have a choice. 

Minutes passed in silence. Donghyun continued to lean over the table. 

Seonghwa’s earpiece crackled to life. “All clear,” Jisung’s voice came through. “The crowds are gone. The shooter got away. We found no man with a red t-shirt. Police are searching the area and reinforcements are being called in. A car if waiting in the back entrance of the West Wing of the Center. Two of Hongjoong’s men are heading over to help you escort Lee.” 

Seonghwa bit back a curse. This week was just going fucking  _ fabulous _ \- “Copy,” he sighed. “Was anyone injured?”

“The shooter fired two rounds and then disappeared. Aside from you, not even a bruise to tell of.” 

That, at least, was a comfort. “Alright, contact Eden and start reporting everything that happened. We’re going to need more people involved in this.” 

“Roger that, sir.” 

Hongjoong lowered his own hand from his earpiece. “Song and Choi are on their way,” he said. “A car’s waiting.” 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa said darkly. “Alright, Mr. Lee, we’re going to move you to a car that’s going to take you somewhere safer.” He nodded to Hongjoong. “Watch the door.” 

It took some persuading and coaxing to get Donghyun to raise his head, to stand, to move, but Seonghwa made him, and held onto one arm. He would be lucky if the man wasn’t having a heart attack from all this, at his age. 

Two rapid knocks on the door. Seonghwa stepped out of the line of the door with Donghyun as Hongjoong threw it open, weapon raised, before his shoulders dropped. “Song. Choi,” he greeted, jerking his head at Seonghwa. “Let’s go.” 

Donghyun whimpered and flinched the whole time, Song and Choi guarding their backs, while Hongjoong and Seonghwa checked the front. It was entirely too easy to reach the back, find the car, and push Donghyun inside where three men in black suits and guns were already waiting. The men nodded to Seonghwa who jerked his head in return. 

The door closed. 

The car drove off. 

Seonghwa felt like he was going to pass out. 

“Sir, that’s quite a bit of blood.” Seonghwa was pretty sure that was Choi. 

“I know,” Hongjoong muttered darkly. “Did anyone call for an ambulance?”

“On its way, sir, one of his men called it.” 

Hongjoong gazed at him, sharp, cold, and focused. “You’re still good to walk out there?” 

Seonghwa scoffed. “Does it look like my legs got hit?” 

“I mean blood loss, asshole, but keep bitching at me, I guess.” Hongjoong gestured his two men to go on, stepping after them. Seonghwa followed, the pain slowly building in his shoulder. There was a single pinprick of white-hot fire, and Seonghwa swore if something was broken, he was going to lose it. 

They walked back through the Commercial Center. Seonghwa bit back hisses as each beat of his heart sent a throb through his shoulder and arm. 

Well, this whole plan had gone to shit. His only consolation through the disappointment and pain was that Donghyun was secure, no one was injured, and he was not going to bleed out. Hongjoong ignored Seonghwa- probably for the first time in his life- but Seonghwa needed to say something or else he was going to get too distracted by the pain building with each step. 

“Did you at least  _ use  _ the information you snatch from me?” he posed through gritted teeth. 

Hongjoong glanced back, clearly confused for a second, before the serious demeanor faded and Seonghwa was left staring at the familiar smirk and glint in his eyes. Oh, fuck him. “I sent it to all the right people,” he assured him, clearly in a better mood at the memory. “Don’t you worry, I’m not looking to have any sort of death of the masses on my conscience.” 

“Do you even have a conscience?” 

Hongjoong’s grin only widened. “Didn’t you see how concerned I was for you back there? When you got shot?” He pressed a hand to his heart. “You should know, Seonghwa, if you were to die, I would be devastated.” 

“By losing your favorite plaything?” Seonghwa supplied. 

Hongjoong chuckled.”Oh, please, you don’t know me at all, if you think that’s using you as a plaything.” He glanced at Seongha through his lashes. “I  _ could _ show you how you could really be a plaything?” he offered, eyes sultry.  

Seonghwa wrinkled his nose as he pushed the door to outside open, blinking against the harsh sunlight. “Is there ever a moment you’re not thinking about sex?” 

“When I’m  _ having  _ sex,” Hongjoong told him readily, nodding. “Or, when the person I’m talking to is a  _ total  _ bore.” He made a vague gesture, and Song and Choi ran off to do something. He heard the distant cry of sirens. Probably the ambulance. 

“Then why the hell do you keep talking about it to me?” Seonghwa demanded, coming to a halt. 

Hongjoong stared at him for a moment, confused, before he burst out laughing, as if they were not special agents, one of which had a bullet wound. Seonghwa simply rolled his eyes, waiting for the laughter to subside as policemen glanced their way. “ _ Seonghwa _ ,” Hongjoong gasped around the last dregs of amusement. “ _ Please _ , talking to you is the farthest thing from boring.” He grinned, and something about it was different, something was a little less sarcastic and a little more genuine. “You are the most interesting person I have had the pleasure of speaking to in  _ years _ .” 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, considering every conversation of theirs went the same way, time and time again, as if they were following a script. Seonghwa insulted him, Hongjoong made jokes about having sex, Seonghwa threatened him, Hongjoong turned it into some sort of innuendo, Seonghwa stormed off before he committed a murder most foul. 

What about that was interesting? 

Hongjoong, however, was finished sharing, clicking finger guns at Seonghwa. “The ambulance is about to turn in. Make sure you don’t die of some sort of infection.” He turned, beginning to walk away with a casual flutter of his still-paints fingers. 

“You’re an actual dick, you know that?” Seonghwa called, fists clenching, but it hurt his shoulder, so he stopped. 

Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder. “I’d turn that one around on you, but it’d be too obvious.” He smirked broadly. “Nice working with you!” He saluted, sauntering off, and Seonghwa really was about to chase him down and pound him into the ground. 

(Hongjoong would probably like to turn that one around on him as well.) 

The ambulance pulled up, and paramedics ushered him in, asking questions about everything. Seonghwa just went through the motions, staring off with a pinched brow. 

Somehow, Hongjoong had not fucked things up, and had even been useful. Seonghwa knew he couldn’t be just someone who had sex for information, but there certainly was another side to him. 

The cold eyes he had seen before. The grin that was always ready to drip innuendoes. 

Which was the real him? Why did Seonghwa care? Whichever, he was still an asshole and an idiot. It was just a question of which part of him was great at acting. 

But he didn’t want to think about that anymore. Right now, he needed to focus on what the hell he was going to tell Eden about two missions going to shit in as many days. 

 

~~~~~

 

“Again,” Eden ordered, frowning over laced fingers. 

“I glanced back as we were running to the stairs, checking our surroundings,” Seonghwa replied rotely. “Everyone was running around, people were screaming, but there was one man matching the description I already gave you standing there, already watching me. He didn’t appear to be carrying a weapon. There’s no way he would be the shooter, standing there calmly and drawing attention to himself after what he pulled. But he was looking at me- at least, from what I could see with his sunglasses, he was. Jisung reports that there was no one they found matching that.” 

Eden closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting it go slowly. 

Seonghwa waited patiently, his shoulder stiff with the bandage still there. 

_ “You’re lucky,” the doctor said. “It didn’t damage the bone, but it did bruise it. You’ll be aching for a couple of weeks, but you’re free to move as much as you need after the cut has healed. Your shoulder blade is only missing a chunk of skin. You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Mr. Park.”  _

“You do understand how concerning that is, right?” Eden finally sighed. “An apparent psychopath in a crowd shooting, staring at one of my agents?” 

Seonghwa nodded. It was eerie, and he had spent the passed two days checking over his shoulder, his hair raising on end. He checked every room of his apartment more thoroughly, gun drawn just in case. 

“What about the police?” Seonghwa asked when Eden paused. “How did they let someone slip in with a weapon? How did a citizen get a  _ gun _ ?”

Guns were the worst in the hands of ordinary people. Because more likely, they got it from highly twisted, illegal means, which meant there would be no trail  _ anywhere  _ to follow and trace it with. 

Eden sighed, shaking his head and throwing his hands in front of him helplessly. “We’re interviewing them and some of the witnesses. All of them claim no one set off any sort of warnings. They say they checked every person with a metal detector.” 

Seonghwa’s lips twisted. “So either one of them is lying-” 

“Or there’s someone who worked with him from the inside,” Eden finished heavily. “Yeah. And that creates a lot more problems.” 

Seonghwa hesitated, but went ahead anyway: “Any way it could be connected to Detective Kim?” 

He sighed, resting a hand against his forehead. “We’re looking into it. But it seems a pretty bold risk, given how close he’s already under scrutiny for that hostage situation. We’re not ruling him out, but he’s not a prime suspect.” 

Seonghwa nodded along as Eden started listing names, people who were most violent and open about their outrage with Donghyun, and Seonghwa listened, but all his attention wasn’t there. “You’re sure you saw nothing of the shooter? Not even someone acting suspicious?” Eden questioned. 

Seonghwa had spent the passed two days doing nothing but replaying the whole event over and over inside his head. And he just kept coming up to the same conclusion. “I didn’t see anyone,” he said regretfully. 

Eden sighed. “This is going to be such a-” 

“But…” Eden stopped, lifting an eyebrow, and Seonghwa frowned, replaying the scene one last time and he just kept coming to the same conclusion. “I’d like to present the possibility… that… perhaps, Lee was not the target.” His stomach turned slightly as he said it, nerves whizzing through his veins. 

Eden stared at him for a full minute, before slowly looking disbelieving. “A gunshot… at Lee’s rally… aimed at Lee’s stage… at a time when Lee is one of the most threatened men in the country… and you don’t think he was the target?” 

Replay. Repeat. The same thing. 

“I don’t think the shot was aiming for him.” 

“ _ He  _ was the one up there when the shot fired,” Eden reminded him firmly, clearly thinking Seonghwa had rattled something loose in his brain. 

“I stood beside Lee, on his left. Hongjoong on his right,” Seonghwa said quickly before he could lose his resolve. It sounded so ridiculous, even to his half-asleep mind, even to his awake mind. But it made no sense, it didn’t add up. “A few feet away, not more than twice my arm’s length.” He positioned his hands apart to diagram. “The gunshot went off. I moved to my right towards Lee. The bullet caught me in my left shoulder blade that was facing the crowd, after I had already moved forward some.” 

Eden was silent, not giving any sort of hint as to what he thought of it. He didn’t tell Seonghwa to get the hell out of his office, though. 

“I had already moved towards Lee. But the bullet caught me in the furthest possible area of my body it could. The part of my body  _ furthest  _ from Lee. Hongjoong and the doctor both pointed out the same fact…” He swallowed. “If I had not moved, the bullet would have hit me directly in my chest.  _ My _ chest, that was a good five feet from Lee.” 

Eden’s lips thinned. 

Seonghwa spread his hand. “Maybe we’re dealing with a truly shitty shooter, who couldn’t make a shot that clear in the open. But, aiming to hit someone  _ else’s  _ chest by  _ accident _ ? That doesn’t add up… So that means… ” 

He stopped. 

Eden didn’t shift. 

“You think the shooter was aiming for you?” 

Replay. Repeat. Same results. 

Seonghwa nodded stiffly. “Maybe not. Maybe he was just a shit shot. Maybe it was a random citizen who got caught up in the wrong side. But if there’s an officer on the inside who could get him in, he’s got to be more than that.” He wet his lips. “And there’s that man who was staring at me…” 

“Why would someone try and kill  _ you _ at a political rally?” Eden posed darkly.

Seonghwa didn’t know either. And he said as much. 

He operated from the shadows. Select, unlawful people may know his face- recognize it from the grapevine they followed. But there should not be any sort of ordinary citizen, unrelated to illegal works or the government who knew his face from past events. Which meant the shooter either wasn’t aiming for him (unlikely), wasn’t a citizen (possible), or didn’t know who he was and was just given orders (probably the most concerning). 

Any and all ideas he currently had were not good. 

Seonghwa had needed to go into hiding before- not often, but once or twice, after things went terribly wrong (usually unrelated to his own actions). He had to sit in safe houses until it blew over, until things were cleared and certain people put away, and then he returned to normal life. 

He had yet to have someone so blatantly attempt to end his life, in such an… odd setting. 

Eden was silent as well, until he shook his head. “Enough,” he sighed, waving a tired hand. “We have no proof of anything, and we can’t get any until questioning is done. I want you to watch your back- or have someone else watch it for you- and then just… wait a couple of days until we can see what’s really going on, alright?” 

Seonghwa nodded. 

“Are you confident enough to go home?” Eden asked, frowning. “I can order one of the other agents to take you there, or stay with you, if you think there’s a need.” 

Logically? No, there was no need. He had already gone two days of looking over his shoulder, and nothing had happened. Perhaps, emotionally? Seonghwa was sort of set on edge about the whole thing, ever since Eden mentioned that he would be on security detail. But Seonghwa got paranoid easily, and it was one of his very distinct traits that people made fun of. (See: him almost pulling his gun when a lady at the bus stop grabbed his arm, but she was just asking if he knew which stop went by the bakery.) 

So, he shook his head. “No. I’ll be careful and call someone when I’ve made it home, but there’s no need for a full entourage.” 

Eden leveled him with a stern gaze, but nodded. “Alright,” he relinquished. “But don’t do anything stupid until we figure this out, alright? And that includes midnight coffee runs.” 

Seonghwa cracked a smile. “I thought you said you were going to stop monitoring your agents’ home lives.” 

“I did. And then I got word on reports of a man who always came into the local coffeehouse and ordered straight espresso at one AM.” Eden gestured towards the door. “Go finish up whatever paperwork you have left for this whole thing, and then go home. I’ll message you the moment we hear anything.” 

Seonghwa nodded, standing and walking towards the door. 

“And tell Yeosang, if he doesn’t stop using so much cream, he’s going to start bringing his own!” He called just as Seonghwa shut the door. He sighed, smirking in amusement, but nursing the racing of his heart. Seonghwa could deal with direct confrontation for his actions. Usually, if someone found out the man trying to sleep with them was a government agent, they shot first and never asked any questions. 

But this sort of back alley, cloak and dagger, stalker feeling? It set his teeth on edge. 

He got another coffee (number five? Did he finish that third one? Was it six?) and settled at his desk, pulling up the forms for agents injured in the line of duty, for targets almost lost, for collaborations outside of your immediate team… He could feel eyes on the side of his head, but rather than making his skin crawl, these were familiar. 

Seonghwa did not look over. 

“I know you can feel me looking at you,” Wooyoung said firmly, glaring. 

“Yep.” 

“Hyung, look at me!” he begged, and Seonghwa sighed, glancing his way. He sat backwards in his chair, resting his chin on the backrest as his legs fell through the gap at the back. Wooyoung’s face pulled into something like concern. “You got shot?” 

Seonghwa was the only field agent out of those few people he knew the names of here. The others worked behind the scenes, and that meant they weren’t quite as desensitized as he was to things like being shot at and getting hit. 

“It’s just a graze,” he assured him, turning back to his work. “It’s already healed, it’s just bruised.” He paused. “Tell Yeosang that Eden says he’s going to have to start buying his own creamer soon.” 

“He’s been saying that for months,” Wooyoung waved off. “Your target wasn’t even hit, though, is what everyone is saying. Right?” 

“No, Donghyun is fine. There’s been no further action against him.” Which only added to Seonghwa’s suspicions and fears. “They’re planning on having him lay low.” 

Wooyoung nodded. “Yeah, Yunho is already working with the British government to arrange for him to take a little break over there.” He leaned his cheek against the back of the chair. “Yeosang’s currently playing go-between with the media who are trying to rip everything apart.” 

“Is that why you’re here?” Seonghwa asked, pausing to think of another word for ‘shitstorm.’ “Because he’s too busy to entertain you?” 

“ _ No _ ,” Wooyoung burst quickly. “I don’t need him to entertain me,” he assured Seonghwa. “And besides, even if I did, I’d just bribe him into taking a break with some coffee.” 

“What he drinks is not coffee.” 

“And that’s why  _ you’re  _ not on his good side, because you invalidate his life choices.” 

“Didn’t you just recently call him a ‘shitty nerd’ for majoring in public relations and communication?” Seonghwa glanced at Wooyoung, who looked unapologetic. 

“That’s different. That’s  _ true.  _ He’s good at using tech and shit, and that makes him a nerd,” Wooyoung explained. “But he’s talking to people all day. And that makes him a  _ shitty  _ nerd. Nerds don’t talk to people.” 

“I’m going to go back to ignoring you now,” Seonghwa said, typing quickly in hopes of drowning out Wooyoung’s complaints. He just wanted to get this done and go home and… well, not sleep. But at least rest. Think of explanations, try and draw conclusions for why the bullet was coming for him so directly. Maybe make a few calls to people who knew those men and women who opposed Donghyun so vehemently. He needed to try and think of what their next move might be. 

Speaking of next moves. 

“Why haven’t you contacted me about Hongjoong’s agenda?” He demanded, turning to Wooyoung again. 

The younger shrugged. “Eden told me not to. He said he didn’t want company resources used for personal vendettas against our own side.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, adding just one more thing to his growing lists of shit. Well, at least he knew that Hongjoong was going to be too occupied with taking care of their aftermath to cause him any trouble. 

Seonghwa hadn’t even noticed Wooyoung getting bored and returning to his own work. But without the distraction, he was able to focus on getting everything take care of. It was only 7:43 when he sent off the documents to Eden and the different departments that needed them, switching off his computer and standing, gathering his wallet and keys. 

Wooyoung tilted his head back curiously. “You’re leaving?”

Seonghwa nodded, waving. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t stay too late just because Yeosang does.” 

Wooyoung lifted a hand, most likely to give him a giant middle finger, but Seonghwa was already turning away, grinning. He stepped into the elevator, taking it down, and headed out to his car in the parking lot. 

The moment he stepped outside, his amusement faded a little. 

It was already dark, though the outside was lit with street lamps and lights attached to the outside of the building. Still, there were a lot of dark corners to get through. 

He kept a hand on his gun, even if he didn’t really think he would have to draw it. He walked, not looking around like a madman, but glancing around, making sure nothing was waiting out of the corner of his eye. He made it to his car (unsurprisingly) without being murdered, and his drive home was filled with static-y radio set low, just to fill the silence. 

He checked his cameras. Clear. Once again, his hand remained on his gun as he entered his apartment building. Clear. He checked all his rooms thoroughly. Clear. 

He changed out of his work clothes, letting dress pants and a black turtleneck fall to the ground. He picked his most comfortable pajamas, flicking on the bedside table lamp as he sat on the mattress heavily. 

Was he actually a target? If he was, why? He had done so many things that could result in the wrong type of people coming after him. Which one had spawned it? Was the man the one with the grudge or was he acting under orders? 

The questions swirled around his head until he felt dizzy. 

Groaning, he flopped down on the pillow, staring at the ceiling and wishing that his tired limbs could take over his overactive mind and just let him sleep through the night. He closed his eyes, not falling unconscious, but just drifting. 

Like always, he came back to only a few hours later, just past midnight. 

He sighed, rolling over and grabbing his phone off the nightstand, the light still on. He remained laying in bed, but scrolling through media outlets and finding video footage of the rally. He had already watched it, already seen himself move and get hit a hundred times. 

He also saw Hongjoong, which he hadn’t  _ really  _ noticed before, reacting just as fast as Seonghwa to the gunshot sound, grabbing Donghyun and forcing him down. 

Hongjoong had undoubtedly pissed off more people than Seonghwa ever could. Where was his attempted murder? 

He ignored the headlines that came with the videos, talking of radicals and ‘well, he deserved it’ and ‘this is what we get for trying to keep relations.’ The usual bullshit that made Seonghwa want to find these authors and smack them until their idiotic brains stopped spewing garbage. 

He let his phone fall onto his chest, rubbing at his eyes. God, he was tired. He wished he had some sleeping pills to take. Maybe he could see if those teas would help any-

His hair stood on end, and Seonghwa bolted upright,  heart leaping as his hand automatically snaking under his pillow to snatch, cock, and aim his gun around his empty room. 

His blood roared in his ears as he got up from the bed, grabbing his phone, muscles tense as he looked to the window, the closet, the door to the hall… He opened his phone, pressing the first number there. 

Only a single ring passed before a groggy voice answered. “Hyung?” Yeosang’s voice was a mixture of sleep from the hour of the call and concern from the hour of the call. “Why’re you calling me at two AM?” Slightly more aware. “Did something happen?”

“Hang on,” he whispered, not even shifting. What made him move? He listened and heard nothing but Yeosang breathing gently on the line. At least if someone attacked, he would know. He went to the door, checking the hall. He tore the closet open and found only his wardrobe staring back. He turned to the window, approaching slowly and pulling the curtains back only enough to peer out of. 

Distantly, the city lights shone. Below, only the parking lot of his building. A couple of street lamps showed the cars, but no people. Not even a cat roaming around. At the end of the main road, there was a car driving away slowly. He squinted, but couldn’t make out the plates. It was small, probably some sort of old car that hadn’t been made in twenty years. It was too far away to be something that carried someone suspicious. 

His eyes narrowed. What… Had it felt like someone was watching him? He hadn’t heard anything… 

God, he really was losing his mind. 

“Sorry, Yeosang,” he said quietly, slowly lowering his weapon. “False alarm.” 

A quiet sigh. “Hyung, don’t do that to me,” he breathed. “You gave me a heart attack. Where are you? I tracked your phone, it says you’re at home.” 

“I am at home.” 

“Was there someone at your house?” Yeosang demanded, more awake. “Do I need to contact Eden? Are you-” 

“There’s nothing,” Seonghwa assured him, forcing his heart rate to calm as he checked everything one more time. “I think I might have been dreaming and didn’t realize I had stopped.” 

“Hyung, you don’t sleep enough to dream,” Yeosang said, as if reminding him in case he forgot. 

Seonghwa knew that. “I’ve been paranoid for days now,” he reassured him, using the words as his own reassurances. “Every since I got shot. I’m sure I’m just jittery.” 

“Do you want me to come over?” Yeosang offered. “Or you can sleep on my couch.” 

“Are you sure Wooyoung won’t mind I take his spot?” Seonghwa joked. 

“Hyung, I’m serious. If you don’t feel safe-” 

“I feel fine,” Seonghwa assured him. “But I want to take a shower before I try and sleep again. Sorry I woke you.” 

A short pause. “Alright,” he relinquished. “But be careful, hyung. Call me or one of the others if something happens, alright?”

“Will do,” Seonghwa promised, waiting to hear Yeosang muttering about midnight heart attacks before hanging up. Seonghwa let the adrenaline fade, his hands shaking only a little in the aftermath as he checked his entire apartment one more time, before falling back into bed. 

Paranoia was fucking annoying. And Seonghwa pointed ignored the hair that raised as if someone was watching. (Save for a peek every now and then. He wasn’t stupid.) 

All in all, his week had been shit. Kim fucking Hongjoong, getting shot, the constant feeling that someone was following him despite him finding no evidence that anyone was… He just wanted to sleep. 

Maybe he  _ should  _ try sleeping pills again. 

He pressed his palms to his eyes. He truly was getting desperate, wasn’t he? 

He rolled over, burying his head under his pillow and just begging to actually sleep. He drifted in and out, as he usually did, but never more than a light nap that he jerked out of at random moments. 

Sunlight peeked through his windows as he lifted his head, always with just enough sleep to operate but never enough to feel good about it. 

Seonghwa threw his covers off, slid out of bed, and prepared to face another day of looking over his shoulder. 

 

~~~~~

 

“-eonghwa!”

He blinked, not even realizing his eyes had stopped focusing on the screen in front of him. He glanced to his right, finding Yeosang standing by his chair, hand resting on the back of it with a concerned frown. 

“Yes?” He answered casually, as if Yeosang hadn’t probably been calling his name since he entered the room. 

Yeosang leaned against Seonghwa’s desk, arms crossing. “Did you sleep at all last night after everything?” 

Seonghwa nodded. 

Yeosang narrowed his eyes. 

Seonghwa looked back to his computer. “Yeosang, I never sleep. My call to you last night had nothing to do with it.”

“Hyung-“

“You know I’m always paranoid,” Seonghwa reminded him, turning his chair towards him. “Don’t take me so seriously.”

“You’ve never been paranoid to the point of thinking someone was in your  _ apartment _ !” Yeosang crossed his arms. “Listen, Hyung, I think you need to take a couple days off or something. Get your head back on straight after everything.”

Seonghwa scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous,” he said firmly. “I don’t need a break, I’m just trying to shake it off.”

“Hyung-“

“I appreciate you being worried,” Seonghwa said quickly, giving a stern look. “But you don’t know what’s going on inside my head. I’m fine, Yeosang. One panicked call in the middle of the night doesn’t mean I’m going insane.”

Yeosang’s brow furrowed. “No one said anything about you being insane, hyung.” 

Seonghwa turned back to his computer. “Good. Because I’m not.”

And he saw Yeosang press his lips together, weighing what he wanted to say and what he needed to do. After several long seconds, he sighed, walking off, leaving the room. 

Probably to go track down Wooyoung and complain to him about Seonghwa being paranoid and stubborn. A dangerous combination if you asked anyone. 

Yunho came by around lunch, delivering a small USB flash drive into his hand. “What’s this?” He asked, frowning at it. 

Yunho smiled sympathetically. “Every person who was at that rally, and their history.”

Seonghwa stared. “Yang wants me to go through all of it?” The Head of the Intel Department must be out of his mind.

“Not all. Most of them have been vetted at this point. There’s a file of people with our potential interest. He wants you to go through those.” 

Seonghwa sighed, but nodded, sticking it into his computer. “Thanks.” 

“You sound more like you wanna strangle me than thank me,” Yunho chuckled. “Is this related to what Yeosang was talking about?”

Seonghwa dropped his head heavily onto his desk with a loud thump, making Yunho jump and people in their cubicles glance over. “Is he seriously ranting to the whole building?” He demanded. 

Yunho shrugged. “I just heard him talking to Wooyoung in the break room. He was talking about having Wooyoung hack the cameras in your apartment complex to see if there was anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there.” 

Seonghwa closed his eyes. Yeosang meant nothing but the best of intentions but Seonghwa underlined his name on the list. 

“I think he was also wanting to talk to Eden about-“ 

“Seonghwa!” 

He turned quickly, seeing an agent he didn’t know the name of (Dae? Dong? Not important.) standing in the doorway, a laptop under her arm. “The boss wants to see you,” she called, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “In his office. As soon as possible.” 

Seonghwa stomach dropped out. “Yeosang didn’t  _ actually  _ go to Eden about giving me a break, did he?” 

Yunho shrugged, looking at him with sympathetic concern. “I was just with him, and it sounded like he hadn’t talked to him yet.” 

Seonghwa stood quickly, walking to Eden’s office. Good intentions be damned, if Yeosang actually went behind Seonghwa’s back, he was going to kill him. Seonghwa didn’t need a break. He needed to figure out who the fuck shot at him, if they were even shooting at him, and why they would choose him over literally one of the most pivotal men in the country. 

Eden’s door was wide open when he entered, not even knocking. Eden glanced up from his computer, holding up a single finger, asking Seonghwa to wait a moment as he finished typing whatever he was working on before. Seonghwa tapped his foot silently, lips pressing together as Eden finally shifted his mouse and clicked something, nodding, and turning to Seonghwa. 

“Good morning,” He greeted, gesturing for him to sit. 

Seonghwa didn’t. “Did Yeosang talk to you this morning?” 

Eden blinked, neutral eyes colored light with surprise. “Not unless I somehow blacked out for a period of time.” 

“So he didn’t badger you about making me take time off?” Seonghwa clarified, feeling relief in his veins. 

Eden frowned. “Well, Yeosang wasn’t the one telling me to give you time off, but the topic seems to be a popular one this morning.” 

He blinked. “What?”

Eden sighed, turning his chair and picking up a single piece of paper and sliding it across his desk. “I got this this morning,” he said, lacing his fingers. He almost looked regretful. “I already called and talked to Director Gong, and he says it’s necessary.” 

Seonghwa stepped forward, sitting down and sliding the paper closer. He got as far as the “Mental Health Leave Form” written across the top before he looked up sharply. “They’re making me take off for  _ mental health _ ?” he demanded. “There’s nothing  _ wrong  _ with  my mental health!” 

Especially since no one that high up should know about  _ anything  _ that had gone on with Seonghwa personally the past couple of days. Not even his call to Yeosang last night. 

Eden looked at him helplessly, spreading his hands. “I don’t think there is, either. I think you got shot at, you shook it off, and you’re going through the normal process of being a little jittery after that. I’ve known you a long time, and I think by now I can tell when you’re edging near the deep end.” He gestured to the paper. “But it’s Director Gong, so my hands are tied, Seonghwa. He seems to think that the event was traumatic enough that it warrants this. He said he’s gotten reports from people at the company who say you’ve been a little shaken since it happened.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth snapped open, but Eden cut him off. 

“No one on your team made a report,” he assured him quickly. “But even if they had, there’s still nothing I can do, Seonghwa, I’m sorry.” 

Seonghwa’s teeth ground together as he looked at the paper more fully. “Irritable symptoms,’” he muttered, eyes scanning. “‘Paranoia, tendency to snap-’ I’m always like this!” he sighed harshly. “‘Recommended leave time of 10 days?’” he demanded, looking at Eden. “This is insane, Eden! They’re not even demanding I see a therapist or anything, they just want me out of here!” 

And Seonghwa felt bad because Eden had as much choice in the matter as he did. And really, Seonghwa wasn’t someone whose only joy in life was their job (he painted on the weekends, sometimes) but he was dedicated, and he was in the middle of investigating someone who may have tried to shoot him. This was not the time to be sitting on his ass at home. 

Eden simply shook his head, shrugging. “I can’t do anything for you, Seonghwa. Per the request, you’re out of work for ten days. It’s mental health leave, so you’re leaving work here. You’re not to work on anything related to these cases or contact anyone here for any information on what’s been going on. At the end of the ten days, you’ll come back and we can keep going, okay? Just think of it as a vacation.” 

“A vacation in the middle of me trying to help find a shooter?” Seonghwa demanded. 

Eden just stared, already having said everything he could. Anything else would just be redundant. 

Seonghwa stared at the paper and wondered how much good it would do if he just tore it up. He sighed harshly, snatching it up. “Fine,” he snapped, standing. “When is it effective?” 

“Immediately.” 

“Yunho just gave me a list of suspects to go through!” 

“Well, I’ll transfer those over to Youngjae, then,” Eden assured him. “We’ll get everything sorted out.” 

Seonghwa was frustrated and he wanted to keep fighting it, but it would be useless. Neither of them could do anything. Maybe he should just go home and scream into a pillow until he passed out. 

“Fine,” he said, a little less sharply. “Then I guess I’ll pack up and head home.” He turned to the door swiftly. 

“I will contact you if we have anything major come up,” Eden promised. “But don’t hold your breath for that.” 

Seonghwa simply hummed in affirmation, taking the elevator and getting back to his desk. He switched off the monitor, grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, and started walking out. 

“Seonghwa!” He glanced back at Wooyoung’s confused face. “Where are you going? It’s hardly noon.” 

“Home,” He said stiffly. “I’m on mental health leave for the next ten days. Let the others know, will you?” 

“Mental health? For what-” 

Seonghwa just shook his head, turning and marching out of the building. It was weird to leave while the sun was still up, but he went to his car, slamming the door hard and starting it. He was really getting tired of how fucking shitty his week was going. And given the next ten days would be filled with… what? Boredom? Drama reruns? All while there was someone walking around with a gun and an unknown motivation… 

He checked home. He searched every room. He laid in bed, only one o’clock in the afternoon, staring at the ceiling. He got up. He cleaned his already clean kitchen and living room. He reorganized his movie collection (pitiful as it was). 

He glanced at the clock. 3:23 PM. 

He grabbed the nearest couch pillow and screamed until he felt like he really might pass out. 

He glanced at the clock. 

3:25 PM. 

This was going to be the shittiest fucking week of his life. 

 

~~~~~

 

Day 1 he spent cooking. It had been a while since he could actually take the time and make something that took a long time to make properly, so that was… nice, he guessed. While his steaks were roasting in the oven, he cleaned up, listening to some drama play in the background. (Even though he really didn’t give a shit if Euntak fell in love or not.) 

Day 2 he had officially gone stir crazy and went out. He walked up and down the streets, grabbing some coffee from the corner store and sipping it as he passed by shops and houses. 

(He looked over his shoulder the whole time. He swore his hair was standing on edge, but there was nothing ever there. This was getting ridiculous even for him. His walk only lasted until noon when his senses would no longer let him stay out in the open. He may still have his gun on him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have to use it againsts a threat that apparently didn’t fucking exist.) 

Wooyoung called on Day 2, assured him he wasn’t going to tell him anything about what was going on at work, and simply inquired about what he had been up to. He painted a horrible picture of his living room, just to pass the time, and wound up getting frustrated, blacking it all out with mixed paint of every color. 

Day 3, he decided he no longer had any desire to look at the inside of his apartment, and went out to the shopping district. It was 8 AM on a Tuesday, so it was virtually empty as he walked by, smiling and talking to all the old ladies who tried to sell him things he didn’t need or want. This was a little better than aimless walking. He usually avoided this area like the plague for one simple reason. 

He turned towards the North, looking down a side street he knew would end over near the small park. If he crossed through that park and down one more side street, he would come to an apartment complex with green window panes and blue flowers lining each building. 

If he went up two flights of stairs in the 3rd building, and found room 38, he would find Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong knew how to find him too. It was just another hand they held in their game of cards, but Seonghwa had never actually been to his apartments, and Hongjoong had never been to his. It was just a smoke screen tactic they used in their little tete-a-tete. 

But he ignored that side street, looking at some cute buttons. The likelihood of running into Hongjoong here was slim. But, then again, he might even welcome it to put an end to his abhorrent boredom. 

He ate a few things that looked good and the ladies pressed hard enough to get him to try it. He seriously contemplated buying one cheap plastic plant, just to give his apartment more color, but he would never be home after these next seven days, so he decided against it. 

He was examining some pretty hair pins that the lady assured him would impress any girl he chose, when a shiver ran down his spine for the first time that day.

Casually, he placed the pin down as he thanked the woman, and passed his eyes inconspicuously over his surroundings as he turned. People milled back and forth. Cars moved down the street. 

Nothing. 

He moved stiffly, deciding that he was not in the mood to feel like this. He should go somewhere more closed in. Maybe he should go get lunch at a restaurant or something. He began to walk the couple of blocks between him and his car. The air around him felt stagnant, as if things had slowed down. He walked calmly, not drawing attention to himself. 

His phone rang. He answered on the third ring. 

“Yeosang,” he greeted. 

“Hyung,” came a harsh whisper. “I am in no way supposed to be telling you this, but there’s no way I could wait until you got back.” Seonghwa opened his mouth to respond, frowning at his tone, but Yeosang didn’t pause for a moment. “Wooyoung finally got around to checking the cameras in your apartment complex, from that night when you called me? You said no one was there, and you can’t see it all too well, but there was  _ definitely  _ a really old, black car parked, facing your window, and a guy got out at one point, looking at the second floor windows. He stopped at yours, hyung. Then got back in his car and drove off, right around the time you called me.” 

Yeosang swallowed audibly. “Hyung, I think someone may actually be following you.”

Seonghwa paused at the crosswalk to get across the road, his face neutral and calm, despite the slow-build racing of his heart. “Well, I know I’m not insane, then. Thanks for letting me know, Yeosang. I’ll-” 

He stopped.  

A large catering truck blocked his view across the street for a moment, and when it moved, as the little green man appeared that signaled Seonghwa to cross, he saw a man sitting at a cafe table across the street, sunglasses in place and a cap pulled down over what looked like military cropped hair. 

The man stared back at him. 

And Seonghwa didn’t know- had no fucking clue- what part of him told him to move, but his eyes made contact with the man and Seonghwa dropped to the ground like a stone. 

A gunshot rang out. 

People around him screamed, running or dropping to the ground. Moms grabbing their kids, and people walking alone looking around to see what they should do. 

The shot came from behind him. Seonghwa ran in that direction to the nearest shelter- a small alleyway, barely wide enough for him to fit. He risked a glance back. 

The sunglasses man was gone. 

Another gunshot and pieces of brick from his alleyway shattered and splintered in front of him. He jerked away, drawing his gun and stepping further into the alley. Engage or run? That second shot came from in front of where Seonghwa had been. Across the street he had been prepared to cross.

Multiple shooters?

“Hyung!” he heard Yeosang’s tinny phone voice yelling. “Hyung, if you don’t fucking start talking to me-” 

He couldn’t take multiple shooters on alone with only a handgun. He ran further into the alley, pressing his phone to his ear. “Yeosang,” he said quickly. “I’ve got possible multiple shooters after me at the Beauty Shopping District near the river.” 

“They’re after  _ you _ ?” Yeosang demanded, and he could hear muffled orders being yelling away from the phone. “Were you hit?”

“No, but the man I described to Eden was here too,” he said, reaching the far end of the alley and swallowing. What did he do? Where did he go? “I’m on the run right now.” 

“Hyung, don’t go home,” Yeosang said sharply. “They’re probably involved with the guy who at your apartment. They  _ have  _ to know where you live.” 

Seonghwa guessed as much, but where did he go? His car was back in the direction of the gunshots, his apartment was off limits. He could try and find a safe house, but the closest one was thirty minutes on foot. 

So where the fuck did he- 

Another gunshot, but there was no chipping of brick or sound of a ricochet. Another shot, more distant, clearly not anywhere near his hiding spot. Were they just toying with him now? 

Where did he go? He needed to get out now, he needed cover, he needed someone who could fucking help, someone who-

Oh, fucking hell. 

Seonghwa growled, punching the brick with his phone hand, and cursed under his breath. “Fuck all of this,” he snapped, leaning out, checking his surroundings, and sprinting out of the alley and across the street. If he turned, he would be heading North towards a side street. 

“ _ Yeosang _ ,” he snapped angry and pissed and frustrated and ready to just let the fucking shooters take him, his legs pumping rapidly. Another shot. He saw a hole pierce through a wooden table of a cafe. “I’m seeking cover at Hongjoong’s.” 


	2. A Shitty Fucking Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hands are cramping from spitting this out, so I hope nothing is awful! This is more set up because last chapter was so much plot, but I hope you all enjoy and I’ll try and get the next one up just as fast!  
> I’m so glad all the comments have been okay with the last chapter, and I hope I can keep providing!

Seonghwa reached the park, and the sounds of gunfire finally died out. 

Either he had outrun them, they had run out of bullets, they had given up, or they were tracking him silently. He swerved through the crowded paths, most people not even noticing the man with a gun gripped in his hand as he pushed through them. 

“Hyung, are you sure-” 

“For now, I just need somewhere to wait,” he said, voice steady as he ran. “I can get there in ten minutes. I just need to wait until it’s clear.” They knew where he lived. They had been following him for days…. 

He didn’t want to think what they may have done to his phone. 

“Yeosang, I’m ditching my phone,” he reported. “I’ll contact you from Hongjoong’s so answer any number you see, got it?” 

A short sigh. “Fine, hyung. Be careful. Eden is already dispatching people to the area.” 

“Then I’ll call you later.” 

He hung up, glanced at the fountain standing in the middle of a circle of benches and chucked the phone in, running passed it. 

Hopefully, Hongjoong didn’t attempt to kill him on sight.  Seonghwa wouldn’t expect it, but Seonghwa was sure if Hongjoong showed up to his apartment with a gun, he would shoot first and ask questions later, too. 

He almost barreled into a kid on a tricycle, his mother shouting something angrily at Seonghwa as he continued to run. Seonghwa broke through the little gate at the far end of the park and ran across the street- ignoring the annoyed honks that followed him. He glanced around but saw no guns and no man in sunglasses. 

Apartments with green window panes came into view. Third building. He paused, glancing around but there wasn’t even a resident out walking their dogs to be concerned about. Up the stairs. He rushed down the hall of clean apartment doors, glancing on each side- 

35, 36, 37- 

Seonghwa jerked to a stop, slamming his fist against the next door rapidly. Silence met him. 

His stomach dropped. Would Hongjoong even be home in the middle of the day? 

Even if he was, why would he open the door to Seonghwa? Someone who had done nothing but fight him at every opportunity? Would Seonghwa even open the door to Hongjoong in such a situation? 

He glanced down the hall, but knocked hard again, panting. “Hongjoong!” he yelled.

At this point, not drawing attention to himself was not his priority. He could break the door down easily, but he wouldn’t put it passed Hongjoong to have it rigged with something. He didn’t want to risk getting a small explosive set off in his face. 

He continued to pound on the door, giving himself ten more seconds before he abandoned hope and ran to a safe house. Nine. Eight- 

There was the rapid sound of locks clicking. Seonghwa continued to knock, falling forward slightly as the door suddenly gave way. 

Hongjoong lifted his gun, eyes icy. 

Holy shit. 

Seonghwa’s blood froze and he had two options: raise his own gun in return or drop. 

Before he could even get further than a half-flinch away from the weapon, a gunshot discharged a foot from his eyes. 

Seonghwa flinched, his ears ringing, but there was no sensation of lead tearing through flesh, and he blinked through the blood roaring in his ears as Hongjoong reached forward, grabbing his arm roughly and dragging him forward. 

Seonghwa stumbled into his apartment, glancing back as Hongjoong slammed the door, and saw a woman on the ground, blood gurgling out of her neck as a gun fell limp out of her hand. Seonghwa hadn’t even heard her over his knocking- 

The door slammed shut, and Seonghwa saw Hongjoong’s mouth moving, but his ears still rang from the gunshot. He held up a firm hand, closing his eyes and feeling his ears, rubbing at them as sound began returning in the silence of the apartment. 

“-to me, jackass!” Hongjoong’s expression was not flirty or suggestive now. It was stony. He glanced Seonghwa over. “Were you shot again? What the fuck are you doing here? Put your fucking hand down-” He swatted Seonghwa’s hand asking him to wait- “and start talking. Who the fuck was that? Did you fuck up a mission that badly?” 

“Can you give me a second?” Seonghwa snapped angrily. “Let me get my hearing back after you discharged your weapon three inches from my fucking face!” 

“That sounds like a pretty odd way to say thank you,” Hongjoong quipped, arms crossing firmly, gun hanging dangerously from his hand. “I did just save your life from someone trying to shoot you in the back.”

“Yeah, great, but you did aim a  _ loaded gun _ at me the moment you opened the door!” Seonghwa massaged his chest, trying to calm his heart. 

Hongjoong’s sharp eyebrows pinched together. His lips pressed together. “Did you seriously think I was going to shoot  _ you _ ?”

Seonghwa scoffed. “Well, I mean, I saw was you opening a door, a  _ gun  _ in my face, and a bullet being fired- I think I had some evidence to back up the suspicion.” 

“Except we’re on the same side.” 

Seonghwa halted his active anger coursing in his veins as Hongjoong continued to frown at him, his expression questioning Seonghwa’s sanity. 

“You seriously thought I would shoot you?” 

It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t sarcastic or taunting. It was confused. 

It was deeper than Seonghwa had the mental capacity to dissect right now. Seonghwa shook his head. “I don’t give a shit whether you would actually shoot me or not. I need your phone.” He held out a hand. “I need to contact Eden.” 

Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow, and  _ there  _ was the sarcasm. “I didn’t hear a  _ ‘please _ .’” 

“ _ Hongjoong _ ,” Seonghwa snapped, stick his hand out farther. “I am not in the fucking mood for entertaining you! I have been stalked for nearly five days now, I have been shot at, and I threw out my phone after my  _ home _ was compromised. Just give me your  _ fucking  _ phone.” 

It was adrenaline. Adrenaline and frustration and more adrenaline from running and being shot at and there was a body cooling outside this apartment and Hongjoong could never just give Seonghwa a break, and he wondered why Seonghwa thought he would shoot him. He wondered why Seonghwa despised being around him- he was still taunting Seonghwa after seeing everything that just occurred. 

Hongjoong’s lips thinned at his anger, but his expression didn’t shift. “I don’t have one.” 

_ “I know you fucking- _ ” 

“I don’t have one  _ anymore _ ,” he said firmly. “I lost is yesterday night on a mission. The guy I was with grabbed it and ran. It was remotely wiped, but I don’t get a new one from the company for another couple days.” 

Seonghwa was going to throw up. He just needed a fucking minute, but he needed to get into contact with Eden. 

“You should sit down,” Hongjoong said, nodding behind Seonghwa. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” 

“I need to contact Eden,” Seonghwa said firmly, blinking hard. He was not going to pass out. 

“Eden isn’t going to die of a heart attack if you don’t get back to him in ten minutes,” Hongjoong assured him. “Seriously, if you pass out, I’m not catching you.” 

“ _ Hongjoong- _ ” 

He sighed exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes hard enough to hurt. “Fine,” he groaned, fed up, and walked passed Seonghwa, brushing his shoulder. Seonghwa turned, following his movement, and stared at the apartment. 

Hongjoong’s apartment. Where he lived. 

It was messy. 

Well, Seonghwa supposed a more objective term would be “lived in.” But compared to his own sterile home, it was messy. From the doorway, he could see both the living area and kitchen, separated only by a little bar with barstools sitting at it. 

The kitchen counters and table were covered in notebooks and papers, pens and notepads, what looked like flash drives and external hard drives and also some electronic squares covered in a dozen buttons that Seonghwa wasn’t sure what they were. Sitting in the only clear spot of the table were two different laptops, closed and covered in stickers of cats and music notes. 

In the living area, there were take out containers (only a few) but the coffee table was stacked with folded clothes and movies. The couch had sheets of lined paper covering it carefully, none of them overlapping. The ground had various trash cans overflowing with crumpled papers sitting in random locations- in corners or the middle of the walkway. 

Bookshelves stuffed with notebooks and novels, a few actions figures, a few hand-built models… 

And, of course, hidden among everything, were half-covered guns and agency-issued gear. 

Hongjoong went to the living room, shifting through the folded clothes and frowning. “I have a laptop,” he said, shifting papers and going to search the bookshelf. “You can email him, or maybe Skype. Does he have Skype? Would his desktop support it?” 

“I’ll email,” Seonghwa said, half-following him, standing in the division of the two areas, one foot on tile and the other on carpet. “There’s two right there,” he said, pointing to the kitchen table. 

The man glanced over, though, and shook his head. “Those are my mixing laptops, I’m looking for my work one.” He straightened. “Oh, I was working on-” He headed down a small hallway in the living area, still within Seonghwa’s view as he opened a door and disappeared inside. 

Mixing? As in music? 

Seonghwa stood in the middle of the rooms, glancing around once more. 

There were a mishmash of instant ramen flavor packets stacked on the counter. There was a pitcher of water. Only one chair at the table. 

So this is where Hongjoong existed. Somehow, it did not seem like the type of space he pictured for Kim fucking Hongjoong. A lot less… risque. 

Hongjoong reappeared, kicking the door shut and handing the laptop to Seonghwa. “Here,” he said, going back to the living area and picking up the papers scattered across the couch. “You can sit here and do it.” 

Seonghwa almost didn’t want to sit. It seemed too friendly. But Hongjoong stared at him, waiting, and when he hesitated, he scoffed. “I’m not going to try and take you on the couch, Seonghwa, relax.” 

The familiar anger-inducing teasing filled the space between them, and he rolled his eyes, approaching. “You’re impossible,” he sighed, sitting and opening it. 

A plain black screen popped up, simply asking for a password. “Ahem,” he gestured expectantly. 

Hongjoong typed in a twelve digit code with practiced ease, and Seonghwa stared at the regular background of any given laptop. 

Internet. Email. He signed in, and began drafting a run down of everything, explaining the situation and informing Eden of where he was and what he was doing. It was lengthy, and he scanned it once more before sending it out. He waited, staring at the screen with his fingertips against his lips, frowning. 

A minute later, he got a response. 

_ Message received. Running into some difficulties over here getting everything coordinated and approved. Stay put. Tell Hongjoong he’s our newest safe house. Do not leave until you hear back from us. I’ll message as soon as possible.  _

An eerie message that made him wonder what difficulties they were facing, but he at least had let Eden know he wasn’t dead. 

He set the laptop aside, leaning into his hands and sighing heavily as adrenaline slowly faded. Okay. He was okay. 

“Seriously, Seonghwa, do not fucking pass out on my couch.” 

No, he was not. He glared out of the corner of his eye at Hongjoong who stared at him, expression unimpressed. 

“Do you need a shot of orange juice or something?” 

Seonghwa straightened slightly, not wanting to be so relaxed. For the first time, he actually noticed what Hongjoong was wearing. And that was: nothing Seonghwa had ever seen him in before. 

Tight, sheer shirts had been exchanged for a hoodie that looked two sizes too big. It didn’t cinch at his tiny waist, but it made his entire body seem smaller under it. Leather pants were replaced with sweatpants that dragged the ground under his socked feet. 

His eyes were not lined sharply with smokey accents to make him deadly, but were bare and a little swollen, as if he had just woken up. His hair was not unkempt with hands, but flattened on one side and wild on the other. There was the faintest trace of pillow marks on his cheek. 

Seonghwa hadn’t known Hongjoong owned regular clothing. It almost made him unrecognizable. But there was still everything that gave him away: the cock on his eyebrow, the jut of his lip, his still-painted nails resting on his waist expectantly. 

“You’re staring again,” Hongjoong sang. 

“Did you just wake up?” Seonghwa questioned, trailing eyes over him again. “It’s noon.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “I don’t work day hours, you should know that,” he chuckled, smiling sarcastically. He watched Seonghwa glance over his wardrobe again. “I’m not clocked in, I’ve got no one to impress.” His smile turned to a more genuine smirk. “What, you thought I just slept in leather and lace?” 

And, yeah, it seemed stupid to say it out loud, but it was like seeing a teacher outside of school. This person should not  _ exist  _ like this. “Explains why it took you so long to answer your door,” he muttered, turning away. 

“Well, excuse me, I wasn’t expecting a handsome stranger to be begging to be let it my apartment.” Seonghwa could hear his grin. “I didn’t realize you were so desperate-” 

“If you do not stop, I am leaving,” Seonghwa snapped. “I am not in the mood. I have to think, and I don’t want you crooning in my ear while I do it. This isn’t a fucking missions gone wrong. There’s lives on the line- more than mine. There’s too many people getting caught in the crossfire.”

All those civilians at the shopping center. The supporters at the speech. Too many people who could have gotten hurt.  

Hongjoong was silent for a moment while Seonghwa stared at the ground. 

Alright. Someone was following him since the shooting. They had tracked him back to his apartment-

Hongjoong sighed heavily, stepping over and sitting down on the coffee table in front of Seonghwa, crossing his legs and leaning on them heavily. “Alright, lay it on me,” he sighed, as if put upon. As if Seonghwa had asked him to get anywhere near him. 

Seonghwa lifted incredulous eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You’re clearly trying to figure something out,” Hongjoong said, and really, Seonghwa could barely see the flirtatious man in this plain-seeming human. “So, talk it out. Let’s see if we can’t figure something out.” 

“I don’t think  _ you  _ could give much _ - _ ” 

“You know, you didn’t think I should be on a security detail either,” Hongjoong cut in sharply, though his expression did not shift. “And yet, I wasn’t the one who got shot and tripped going down a single flight of stairs.” His lips upturned. “You do know I’m not just an agent for my looks and my dick, right? I actually had to pass tests to get here. Same as you.” 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. He knew this. (The speed with which he took out that woman said something to it.) That didn’t mean he  _ wanted _ to let Hongjoong in on anything. But Seonghwa had already gone over everything in his own mind, twisting it and turning it, and finding nothing to explain it. 

Not that he thought Hongjoong could offer much insight. But perhaps he saw something. Had some piece of information that his agency hadn’t shared yet. 

Seonghwa sighed, leaning his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. “Fine,” he sighed. “It started at the political rally….” 

Seonghwa told him everything. All his suspicions, all the confusions he had, all the conversations he had about this whole ordeal. 

Hongjoong didn’t say a word the entire time, somehow. Seonghwa finished with running to this apartment, and shooting that woman. Someone was after him. There were multiple people. There must be an organization- 

Hongjoong hummed, and Seonghwa opened his eyes, peering at him. His eyes were hard, like they had been during the rally- a look that almost made Seonghwa believe he was a capable agent. “You’re saying the people at the rally are the same that you saw today. And both times, they were after you?”

Seonghwa nodded, no longer so cowed by the idea. Everything snapped into place. Except he still couldn’t see what the picture they formed was. 

Hongjoong hummed, actually appearing to be considering it seriously. “Eden said they were facing difficulties?” 

Seonghwa nodded slowly. 

“What kind?”

“He didn’t say.” 

“Well, what kind  _ could  _ they be facing?” Hongjoong posed, tilting his head curiously. “All he was trying to do was dispatch agents to assess a threat and provide back up. What the fuck kind of difficulties could arise with that? We do that  _ daily _ .”

Seonghwa frowned. “It was in a heavily populated area. Which means he would need special permission from higher up to send armed agents onto the scene.”

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Hongjoong said, as if Seonghwa had said something painfully obvious and not answered the questioned  _ he  _ posed.  “I know you’ve run into malls on Saturday afternoons with faster response times from our officials. For nothing more than a  _ suspect  _ being there. But one of their own agents is under fire from multiple potential  _ snipers _ , in a populated area, and somehow they have to sit and think about it?” He stared at Seonghwa in disbelief. 

Clearly, he was missing something. “What’s your point?” he asked carefully. Maybe he was missing something, but Seonghwa wasn’t an idiot. He just wanted to know whether Hongjoong was actually being serious. If he was actually trying to suggest- 

He sighed, rolling his eyes and stared at Seonghwa with dark eyes he didn’t recognize. “So someone’s after you,” he said slowly, as if teaching to a child. “And they just  _ happened  _ to know that you would be security at that rally. When even you didn’t know you would be there until the  _ day  _ before. And then you were put on mental health leave by Gong, who shouldn’t have really heard  _ any  _ word of you, much less something so personal. Because you were shot at, but even your  _ head agent  _ didn’t think needed it.” Hongjoong’s brow pinched. “These people found your  _ house _ . And have now found and attacked you. You’re an agent compromised in every way possible. But Eden is saying they’re facing difficulties getting okayed to get out there after you had mentioned multiple suspicions about being followed and targeted?” 

Silence stretched before them. Seonghwa’s mouth was dry. He felt like he had missed a step in the dark, his lungs locking up. He didn’t like this. It was too serious of an accusation after so little time hearing the information. It was jumping to conclusions, it was- 

Hongjoong uncrossed his legs, leaning forward. “You don’t think something sounds weird about that? Nothing seeming… a little too coincidental?” 

His lips thinned. Hongjoong was insane. He was absolutely off anyone’s rocker. “Are you seriously suggesting… that someone in the agency is targeting me?” Seonghwa’s voice was a little hoarse. 

Hongjoong shrugged minutely. “At the very least, they must be getting help from someone near the top.” He stared at Seonghwa, and his expression slowly melted into confusion when Seonghwa continued to question his sanity. “It seriously never occurred to you that the agency could be aiding in it?”

“ _ No _ ,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Why would I? It’s the higher ups of an agency on the right side of the law. Why would they try and kill one of their own agents who hadn’t gone rogue?” 

Hongjoong scoffed a little half-laugh. “You honestly believe that everyone within this agency is on the right side of the law? Cute.”

“Well, I certainly have my suspicions about you, but that’s about it.” 

Hongjoong was unimpressed, and Seonghwa really didn’t care, anxiety and adrenaline thrumming back in his veins. “Don’t confuse high power with high morals,” Hongjoong told him. 

Seonghwa had been in this life for over a decade. What right did Hongjoong have to talk down to him? 

“Stop talking to me as if I’m a child,” he snapped. “I already know that.” 

“And yet you never thought your precious agency could betray you if you did something they didn’t like? It never occurred to you and your brilliant spy training that someone got their hands on enough money to pay someone off? How much do you think you’re worth, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong demanded, leaning forward, and Seonghwa shifted backwards. “Fifty  million?” He murmured darkly, making Seonghwa feel ill. “Maybe a hundred, since you’re one of the top? More than that? How much do you think a single drug shipment is worth? You think any big baddie would sneeze at that sort of amount?” 

Seonghwa didn’t like his tone. It felt darker than he had ever heard Hongjoong. Where was the sarcasm and patting his cheek and riling him up just to twist everything around his finger? Why was this  _ ridiculous  _ notion the one thing he was serious about?

“Don’t trust so implicitly, Seonghwa, you’re smarter than that,” Hongjoong assured him, as if Seonghwa had forgotten his own intelligence. “Your noble pride was attractive before, but set it aside and  _ think _ .” 

“ _ Noble pride _ ?” Seonghwa returned, lips pulling down. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have it,” Hongjoong laughed, and it wasn’t mocking this time. “You’re the kind of guy who got into this life to try and make a difference. The type who runs into burning buildings and helps little kid find their moms. All while trying to hold yourself to a standard you set for yourself that  _ no one  _ else expects you to meet.” 

“I do not-” 

“You want to think everyone is on your side,” Hongjoong went on, a little sharper. “You can’t imagine that you would be working for people who would ever try and betray the people you protect. But guess what? It’s more common than you think, and you’re probably the only person who hasn’t considered it before. For all your sexy brains have done for you, they failed you here.” 

Seonghwa was not ignorant. As much as Hongjoong seemed to convince himself that Seonghwa couldn’t see passed his own valor. Seonghwa was well aware that there were people he worked with whose intentions were not so straight. 

(Like one agent Seonghwa worked with, only once, who had fired into a crowd of civilians after a suspect ran into them. When Seonghwa tried to stop him, he shot at Seonghwa, running after the suspect and shoving people aside as he shot the man in the back, grinning as he congratulated himself on a job well done. He had been removed, but there were others who seemed a little more interested in glory or paychecks than saving lives.) 

Seonghwa knew this. He could never have survived without that knowledge. 

But that didn’t mean it was easy to imagine that a higher official of his agency had taken time to organize his death. It was… jarring. And it was like a needle slowly being pushed through his chest. How many people would have known about it? Did it stop with one? Was every higher official in on it? What about the lower ranks? Eden? His team? 

His paranoia was not his friend, making his mind swim. Not Eden. Not his team. Right? There was no way- they were  _ friends  _ before they were coworkers. If any of them knew anything… they would have told him. They were not the type of people to be bought, they would not betray him-

Hongjoong leaned back, staring at him. “Agents are commodities,” he said. “We’re only worth how much we can fetch when the right bad guy decides to try and pay up.” 

_ They would not betray him.  _

“You’re  _ insane _ ,” Seonghwa snapped, standing and forcing Hongjoong to sit further back. He stepped towards the kitchen, putting distance between them. His heart pounded because Hongjoong sounded too sure of himself. As if he already knew about this and decided to share it. As if he wasn’t accusing one of the most powerful intelligence agencies in the country of being bought out. “I don’t know what sort of sob story you’re about to throw at me, but save it,” he seethed. “I don’t care  _ who  _ stabbed you in the back- even if the higher ups of this company were corrupt, it would take a lot more than  _ you  _ trying to rile me up to get me to take any sort of action against them.” 

Hongjoong stood, but did not step after him. “It’s not a sob story, it’s realizing what’s right in front of you. You said yourself- you never work security. You weren’t supposed to be there. Suddenly, a higher up wants you there at the last minute? And someone who wants you dead just happens to be there and realize they were lucky they brought a gun? You just want to ignore something that blatant? You call yourself an agent?” 

“ _ You  _ do not get to talk to me about calling yourself an agent, with everything you pull,” Seonghwa said, whipping around to glare at him. “Hypocrisy is never attractive.” 

And for the first time in his life, Seonghwa watched Hongjoong get  _ angry _ . Small fingers curled into fists as a dark frown turned into angered wrinkles between his eyes. “Right,” he said, eyes blazing. “I’m not a real agent. I’m a fake and fraud- you caught me, Seonghwa. Because I fuck people for a living. Which means my word is worthless, right? All because I’m  _ desirable _ ? Because I’m  _ useful _ without a gun?” He gestured to himself sharply, as if Seonghwa could not see, before his arms dropped to his sides. “Bigotry is even uglier than hypocrisy.” 

And Seonghwa really could not believe this. Could not believe they had somehow ended up here. Somehow, his life or death discussion had turned into a name calling game. Could not believe that somehow, through everything Seonghwa was saying, all Hongjoong heard was that he wasn’t a real agent because he  _ fucked  _ people- as if Seonghwa wasn’t obligated to do the same. 

“I don’t give a  _ fuck  _ who you lay around with,” Seonghwa spat, scoffing. “I honest to God do not give a  _ shit  _ if you tell me the last thing you fucked was a goddamn  _ donkey _ .” 

Hongjoong huffed in disbelief. “Don’t fucking act as if that hasn’t always been your problem with me.” 

“Why the hell would  _ that  _ be my problem with you?” Seonghwa demanded. Was Hongjoong seriously trying to make this about  _ him _ ?

“What other problem could you have?” 

“You don’t  _ care _ !” Seonghwa yelled, and training told him to calm down, to think rationally, to analyze, record, act- but training never prepared him for Kim fucking Hongjoong. “It’s a  _ game  _ to you. You fuck around, without a care for who you step on or what they might be trying to do. You act as if we don’t hold people’s lives-  _ millions of lives, Hongjoong-  _ within our hands with each mission we take. You see an opportunity to get the last laugh. I see women and children and men-  _ innocent people-  _ who die when we fail.” 

“I do actually  _ use  _ the intel I grab from you. I’m not just snatching it and then throwing it to the wind.” Hongjoong scoffed, arms crossing defensively. “Just because I don’t have a stick in my ass,  doesn’t mean I want people to die.” 

“You _waited_ for me, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said sharply, stepping forward, fists clenched. “I told you- I was tracking the woman. _Answer me-_ did you or did you not know where that woman at the bar was for days? Did you just sit by and not immediately act on it?” 

Hongjoong’s jaw flexed. He remained silent, which was answer enough. 

“You did  _ nothing _ . You waited, let that intel sit, and then snatched it days later when I went for it. What if Kim had been assigned to another situation?” Seonghwa demanded. “What if another ten people died in that time? What if she knew who was behind it? What if we could have gotten them days earlier?” He tapped the side of his head sharply. “Lives ride on our jobs, Hongjoong. What you do is no better than snatching intel as quick as possible and then sitting on it for a week before turning it in.” 

Fire crackled between them as they glared, both of them stiff and defensive and… 

They had never been like this before. 

Seonghwa yelled. He shouted and cursed and threatened, and Hongjoong danced around, out of reach, unbothered, regardless of what he said. Seonghwa stormed off, and Hongjoong remained uncaring. But there was nowhere to storm off here. There was only the two of them and a side of Hongjoong that Seonghwa had never seen before, and a fire in his chest that wasn’t usually there. 

But Hongjoong had never returned fire. He had never stood his ground and pushed back against Seonghwa. And Seonghwa had never needed to think of anything to say aside from a roll of his eyes and a demand that Hongjoong stop talking. Maybe it was days of not sleeping, of fearing, of looking over his shoulder, but everything was bursting out in frustration. Seonghwa had been shot at. People were put in harm’s way. And Hongjoong was sitting here, only hearing Seonghwa when he insulted his status as an agent? 

That’s what made him care?

Seonghwa finally sighed roughly, turning away. He walked down the hall, knowing that the door Hongjoong entered into must have been his bedroom and opened the only other door across from it, stepping into a bathroom and closing the door, locking it. 

It was small, barely enough to fit the bathtub and toilet and sink, but Seonghwa lowered the toilet lid and sat on it, head resting in his hands. 

He didn’t like this. 

He didn’t like it one fucking bit. 

The uncertainty. The doubt. The feeling of being out of control. The weight on his chest that made him feel like he couldn’t breathe properly. The anger thrumming through his veins. The irritation that was rising too quickly, too harshly than he ever wanted. Maybe it was the situation. Maybe it was just Hongjoong exacerbating everything. 

Seonghwa just needed a fucking minute. 

The agency… may have helped someone try to kill him. And maybe people who worked with Seonghwa knew. Maybe they even helped. 

An agency he had dedicated over a decade to. An agency he had been prepared to die for,  _ had almost died  _ for, had placed his trust in, hoping that they would help him fulfill his desire to just protect people. 

And they might have tried to kill him. For what? Doing his job? Being worth a price some criminal could pay? What had he done? This agency took him on to save people. To put the bad people behind bars and to keep good people unaffected by it. And for doing that- for being  _ good  _ at doing that- they lost interest in the face of money? 

He shook his head sharply, smacking his forehead. No. He didn’t know anything yet. Maybe something else happened- something threatening more people, something more urgent. There were other reasons they were facing resistance. 

Eden and Yeoseong… Wooyoung and Yunho… They would never betray him like that. 

God, Hongjoong pissed him off. 

He took nothing seriously, and the first thing he seems to truly be concerned with is the agency secretly being corrupt? If he truly thought so, why would he be still be here? Why would he still be a part of it? 

Because despite it all, Seonghwa didn’t think- in his heart- that Hongjoong wanted people dead. He was flippant, yes. Annoying, yes. The embodiment of everything that told Seonghwa he was better off not among them, yes. But did he think Hongjoong would work to harm people on purpose, with malicious intent? 

No. He did not. 

As much as it would be easier to just slap that label on him. 

Seonghwa was not like this. He wasn’t this crazy anger or bitter laughter. 

He was tired. He was unsure. And he needed someone who could actually help him, not Hongjoong and himself at each other’s throats for hours. 

He eventually stood, leaning over the sink and splashing his face. He glanced at himself in the mirror. Well, he looked like shit, and that sort of matched what he felt. He shook out his hands, opening the bathroom door slowly and stepping out. 

The bedroom door was ajar and the small room was empty. 

He stepped out into the living area and kitchen and found them empty too. Seonghwa blinked. Tell him Hongjoong did not go out wandering. 

He went to the door, peering through the peephole to the hallway outside. The woman’s body was gone, leaving only a dark red stain behind. Seonghwa stepped back further into the apartment. So Hongjoong left and removed the body. Spectacular. 

Seonghwa wandered to the sofa, sitting on it heavily and staring around. At least at his own apartment, he was comfortable even if he was bored. 

He should contact Eden. Let him know Hongjoong’s suspicions. 

Because as much as Seonghwa wanted to strangle him for planting that seed… it was viable. Everything was… weird. Coincidental. Too perfectly aligned. 

He reached for the laptop before realizing two things: he did not have the passcode and… what if… Eden was working against-

No. What if Eden’s  _ emails  _ were being monitored and someone  _ else  _ saw their suspicions? Seonghwa couldn’t reveal their evidence just yet. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He felt tired, like he might sleep, but his mind would never quiet enough. 

He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling until it got boring, then tilted his head to the side, staring at the bookshelf and sighing as he leaned towards it. 

There were some books that looked quite old- like teen novels that he had never gotten rid of- and some trashy romance ones, a few biographies and a bunch of old nature magazines. Seonghwa had never read  _ Communism and Conspiracies: Why Lenin Killed Lincoln  _ but it was better than the silence he was facing in an apartment he didn’t even want to be in. 

The sun began to set, after a time, until it was dark enough that Seonghwa could no longer read. He could get up and turn on some lights, but he didn’t feel like moving. His limbs felt heavy. Maybe if he stayed very still, he could sleep. 

But he just rested his head against the back of the couch. He didn’t want to drop his guard, but really, at this point, what was even the fucking point? Hongjoong was gone, people could probably break into the apartment at any moment, and Seonghwa would… what? There was no back up coming. Perhaps there never would be. 

The little green block in the kitchen read 10:39 PM when Seonghwa saw the front door open gently. It didn’t creak or squeak, and the only reason he knew it opened was the light of the hallway outside spilling in. 

Hongjoong entered, sighing heavily, and jumped as he caught sight of Seonghwa on the couch from the hall light. “Jesus,” he cursed, slamming the door shut and clutching his chest. He turned on a light, making Seonghwa blink after such darkness. Hongjoong glared at him, still dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. “What the fuck are you doing, just sitting in the dark like a creep? Turn on a light, damn it.” He came in, his shirt and pants slightly speckled with what looked like rain. 

Seonghwa hadn’t heard any. 

Hongjoong tossed keys onto the counter. “I took care of the body,” Hongjoong told him, not looking at him. 

That was new. If there was one thing Hongjoong was, it was unashamed. 

Seonghwa had been in this apartment less than twelve hours, and already had seen more of Hongjoong than he had in eight years. 

Seonghwa wanted to bring up the shouting match they had. But what was there to say? Nothing said had been wrong. Nothing said needed to be explained. 

“I messaged Eden from some PC room, told him where to find it, see if he could get anything off of it. Messaged some of my people to get an idea what was going on from the outside. They don’t know jack shit. Half of them hadn’t even known your people were having trouble.” Hongjoong went to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. “Want anything?” he tossed over the door that blocked Seonghwa’s view. 

The air between them was stiff. He shook his head. 

A bottle of water came flying at him anyway, and he caught it, feeling the chill of it soak into his fingers. Hongjoong walked closer, taking a swig of his own. “I don’t think you’ve moved from that spot. Drink something before you really do pass out. Are you hungry?” 

It was stilted. Rough. Like Hongjoong was reading from a script for the first time. They had said some things before. There was a tension he was unaccustomed to. One thing they had never been was awkward. Their relationship was never good, but it was easy. Seonghwa had never bothered to watch his step around Hongjoong, but he suddenly felt like he was standing in the middle of a live minefield. 

It felt weird. Seonghwa shook his head. Hongjoong kept eye contact as he took another sip. “Are you going to make me eat anyway?” he posed, almost taunting, but too tired. 

Hongjoong scanned his face before humming and turning away. “No,” he said casually. “But only because it looks like you need sleep more than food.” He sighed. “My bed isn’t great, but it’s better than the couch. I’ve got some extra pillows-” 

“I don’t need your bed,” Seonghwa broke in, resting his chin on the cold bottle. 

Hongjoong took a calming breath. “I’m not going to fight you over every little thing, Seonghwa.” 

“Then don’t,” he replied coolly. “I won’t be sleeping anyway, so don’t give up your bed. I’ll just sit here.” 

Hongjoong frowned for a moment, halfway through taking a sip before he lowered the bottle. “Did today really freak you out that much?” If Seonghwa were stupid, he might almost confuse the tone to be concern. 

Seonghwa scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No,” he assured him. “I never sleep more than a few hours. And I’ll sleep the same on this couch as I have ever other night of my life.” 

He didn’t look at Hongjoong. Didn’t see his expression. Didn’t want to. He just heard him take another swig of water. “Well, if you’re that desperate, I have some sleeping pills in my cabinet-” 

“ _ No _ .” Seongha jerked his head towards Hongjoong, voice sharp, and Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow at the angry response. 

“Geez, I was just offering,” he sighed, turning away. “It’s not even the strong stuff. Just take some NyQuil or something.” 

“That wouldn’t help even if I did,” Seonghwa muttered, turning away. “It’s not something you can fix, so you can just go on to bed or whatever you usually do.” 

Hongjoong laughed, though it was muted, checking the clock. “Usually? I’d be pressed between some stranger and a wall with their tongue down my throat.” 

“Well, you feel free to go do that,” Seonghwa muttered, leaning back against the sofa. “Just spare me the displeasure of bringing them back here.” 

“Well, Eden said he wants me to hang around here until things get sorted out, so instead of that, I’ll be playing babysitter.” Hongjoong stepped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet and grabbing two granola bars out, tossing both to Seonghwa who let them land in his lap without lifting a hand. He stared at them. 

“If you’re not going to sleep, munch on those for the night,” he said, grabbing both the computers from the table and stacking them on top of each other. “I’ll be in my room. Scream if you wake up to being murdered, alright?” he told him, walking towards the hall. He jerked to a stop, glancing back. “Oh, yeah, shit, hold on.” 

He rushed down the hall, and Seonghwa just waited for him to return, the other tossing a flannel mass at Seonghwa followed by a heavy pillow, both of which he caught. 

“You’re bigger than I am,” Hongjoong said. “By a lot. But those are my loosest pajamas, so hopefully they won’t be too snug on you. If they are, tough shit, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse.” 

Seonghwa stared at the clothes for a moment before nodded. “Thanks.” It didn’t sound very grateful, but Hongjoong simply hummed, giving a half-hearted salute, and then disappearing down the hall. It seemed like a such an anticlimactic ending to their little spat. 

He expected more yelling. Not that he was complaining, his voice was beginning hurt. He heard Hongjoong moving around in his room for a while, until near one in the morning when he finally fell silent, and, supposedly, asleep. 

Seonghwa stayed awake. 

He didn’t put on the pajamas. 

He didn’t fall asleep but once, near two AM, only for a couple hours, and he remained sitting in the dim kitchen light until natural sun began to pour through the kitchen window.

He felt worse than usual. He felt numb and exhausted and just so  _ shitty _ . But he had no way to remedy any of the things making him feel this way, so he simply stood, chugged the entirety of the water bottle he had left untouched, and slipped on his shoes as he went about searching Hongjoong’s apartment for coffee. 

He sat at the empty seat at the kitchen table, nursing a hot cup (it was a weak off brand, but Seonghwa wasn’t in a position to be choosy). He didn’t mull over anything, too tired to really contemplate his position, and simply stared off. It was nice, in a way. Almost like he could pretend his life wasn’t falling to shit. 

Seonghwa expected Hongjoong to sleep until noon again, but it was only 8:01 when he heard the door down the hall open, bare feet ‘tupp’ing down the hall, and Seonghwa didn’t look to see the man enter. 

He heard a sharp breath, a soft “shit,” as Hongjoong came into his vision. “Stop sitting in creepy places,” he muttered, scrubbing at his eyes. Seonghwa glanced his way slowly. He had changed into an oversized t-shirt and more loose sweats that were blue this time. His hair was a ruffled mess. 

Hongjoong stopped at the counter, staring at the half-filled coffee pot. He frowned at his own mug clasped in Seonghwa’s hands. “What number cup is that?” he asked. 

Seonghwa looked at it. “Three? I think.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Hongjoong breathed, taking the coffee pot off its holder and dumping it down the sink. “You’re going to give yourself a fucking heart attack.” 

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes as he poured out the only thing keeping him aware.  “I was drinking that,” he muttered. 

“Not anymore you’re not,” Hongjoong said firmly, going to the fridge and pulling out some orange juice. “God, how are you still alive. Tell me you’re not drinking that much caffeine on a regular basis.” Seonghwa only shrugged. “You never told me you had a death wish,” Hongjoong muttered, grabbing a glass and pouring juice up to the brim. “Just thinking about drinking that much coffee kills my stomach.” 

“That’s what happens when you don’t sleep,” Seonghwa replied. 

“No wonder you have insomnia,” Hongjoong muttered as he stepped up to the table, sliding the glass towards Seonghwa and going for his coffee mug. Seonghwa pulled it away, glaring. “This is currently the only thing keeping me conscious,” he told him. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, making a quick grab at the mug with one hand as the other wrapped around his wrist, finger digging swiftly into Seonghwa’s wrist. 

He cursed, letting go at the pressure point being pressed, a sharp pain shooting as Hongjoong whisked the mug away and shoved the juice at him, not looking triumphant, but serious. “Drink it,” he ordered. “Maybe you wouldn’t be almost asleep if you actually ate something to give you calories to burn.” 

Seonghwa almost got up and fought for his goddamn coffee, but fuck he was so tired. He grabbed the stupid juice, sipping it and cringing. “You drink pulp?” he choked. 

Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder, delicate eyebrow lifted. “Do I get the part of the orange that actually provides nutrients? Yes, I did.” He turned back and began rummaging through the fridge. “You’re not vegetarian, are you?” 

Seonghwa swallowed hard, wrinkling his nose at the acid taste. He hadn’t had orange juice in a long time. “Why would I be a vegetarian?” 

Hongjoong paused his rummaging, but did not turn around. “A simple ‘no’ would have been enough,” he sighed, grabbing a box and pulling out a little single container of a serving of instant fried rice. 

Seonghwa’s eyes followed him around the kitchen as he grabbed a pot, some water, throwing the half-prepared rice in and grabbing some red pepper paste, tossing some in, staring at it before shrugging and tossing in some more. He laid out several spices and examined them.

Seonghwa stared. “Have you  _ ever  _ cooked before?” 

Hongjoong hummed, searching his array of spices laid out. “Not really one to cook my own food. But I don’t think inviting delivery people over would end very well right now.” He picked up some soy sauce and shook in a generous amount, putting a top on and nodding, as if he had accomplished something. 

He turned, looking content, and paused at Seonghwa’s expression. His hand found its way onto his hip. “What?” he demanded. “Do  _ you  _ cook?” he challenged. 

Seonghwa couldn't help but snort quietly. “Let’s put it this way: I cook better than  _ that _ .” 

Hongjoong hummed, leaning against the counter. “And that’s just something you’re better at. Like how I’m better at pulling off leather.” 

“What’s wrong with my leather?” Seonghwa demanded, and he couldn’t tell if he was genuinely annoyed or not. 

Hongjoong laughed, and it came from chest as he crossed his arms, smirking. “Nothing. But it belongs on your bottom half, not your top. You wear leather jackets too much.” 

“They’re stylish.” 

“You’re too broad for them,” Hongjoong assured him, as if he were standing in a beauty shop looking for fashion advice. “Stick to sleeveless.” 

“Me and my leather jackets have done just fine on missions in the past,” Seonghwa said, giving him a dirty look. 

“Your face  _ alone  _ does well on missions, everything else you put on are just obstacles for other people to play around with.” Hongjoong chuckled. “I meant when you just go out to have fun.” 

Seonghwa frowned. 

Hongjoong stared. Blinked. Straightened. “ _ You know _ ,” he said slowly. “When you go out to have fun. Outside of work. At a club. Or a bar? Something? Anything?” He waved a hand, as if checking if all of Seonghwa’s lights were still on.

Seonghwa shook his head slowly. “I don’t go out to clubs unless it’s for a mission.” 

“ _ Why _ ?” Hongjoong demanded, seeming aghast. 

“Because I don’t find it all that fun to stand around a bunch of sweaty strangers who keep trying to shove their hands up my shirt if I don’t have to?” 

Hongjoong huffed, as if this was very important information Seonghwa had just given him. “Then what the hell else do you do?” 

Seonghwa shrugged. “I’m at work a lot. I don’t have much free time. I paint sometimes, I guess. Read books.” 

“ _ God _ , you’re boring.” 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. “I thought you said I was the most interesting person you had met?” 

“Well, you are, but that doesn’t mean your life isn’t sad.” He grinned, as if it were amusing. 

“It’s not sad just because clubbing lost its novelty.” 

Hongjoong hummed, glancing at the kitchen clock. Seonghwa followed his eyes and watched as it changed from 8:29 to 8:30. “Huh,” Hongjoong chuckled, glancing at Seonghwa with lips curled up in amusement. “This is officially the longest you’ve gone without threatening my life.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes,but the words stuck in his throat for some reason

Hongjoong was standing there- teasing him, yes, but  _ talking  _ to him- and Seonghwa was sitting there at his table with orange juice- rebutting his every statement, yes, but  _ responding  _ to him. 

Hongjoong looked much too pleased at his statement, eyes glowing. 

“I’m serious,” Hongjoong told him. “Your previous record was 15 minutes 24 seconds, but  you’ve broken passed more than twenty five minutes without threatening to shoot, strangle, or maim me.” He grinned. “I do believe that is what they call character development.” 

“You need something else to occupy your life than me,” Seonghwa told him. “It looks a little sad and a lot creepy.” 

Hongjoong only chuckled. 

Seonghwa had to wonder just how large a part he played in Hongjoong’s life. To Seonghwa, Hongjoong was little more than a rock in his shoe- something he couldn’t get rid of, could ignore, but ultimately just wanted to remove. He thought about Hongjoong, but hardly made much note of him, even when they interacted directly. 

Then again, Hongjoong had never given him much to take note of, aside from flaunted skin and sugary words muttered darkly. Seonghwa had never known Hongjoong to expression anything other than sexual desire, vulgar advances,  or (recently) a composure that gave him credit as an agent. 

Where did tracking Seonghwa’s words fit in? 

Seonghwa had seen more now. Slivers, hints, and gradual allowances… but Hongjoong had actually rarely flirted since he arrived. He had seen anger now. He had seen an almost-concern the likes of which he had never even imagined Hongjoong to be capable of. 

Seonghwa’s eyes trailed over the empty coffee pot, the orange juice in his hand, the breakfast bubbling away, the empty granola packages… 

Hongjoong smiling contently, pausing to stir the pot and turn off the fire. 

“Do you want any side dishes?” he asked without turning. “I might have something simple… Did I finish it off the other day?” He went to the fridge. “Oh, yeah, I have some cucumber. Want some?” He leaned up, holding up a little container for Seonghwa see, eyes questioning. 

The pajamas sitting unused, and a pillow untouched. 

Was all this… Hongjoong try to be… nice? Was it a peace offering for yesterday? Hongjoong didn’t seem the type or apologize even if he was wrong. And he  _ hadn’t _ been wrong. 

So what was all this? What side did this fit onto? 

Hongjoong lifted an eyebrow. “No? Not a fan of cucumber?” He shrugged, tossing it on the table anyway. He portioned out two bowls, sitting both on the table and dragging a stool over, sitting on it. It placed him a good foot above a regular sitting position, but he seemed uncaring as he picked up his bowl. 

Seonghwa stared at his own, unasked for and undesired, but provided regardless. 

“Did you ever hear back from Eden?”

It slipped from his mouth without him really wanting it to. But he didn’t like the silence between them. It was too unfamiliar. He had been wondering it since last night, but the question left his tongue quickly, almost sharply. Almost defensive. But Seonghwa had nothing to be defensive about. 

Hongjoong glanced up as he put a spoonful of food into his mouth, frowning slightly, as if asking if Seonghwa was serious. 

And Seonghwa watched, stock still, as Hongjoong lowered his bowl, the amusement and light and teasing visibly fading from his eyes, leaving them hard. 

It was like watching a candle slowly suffocate under a glass. 

He set his bowl down, posture changing to be stiffer. “Not much. He says they’re still having issues getting into direct contact with anyone higher than the Head of the Agency’s secretary. He couldn’t give me a lot of details, but he basically told me if you got hurt, he’d have my ass delivered on a silver platter.” 

Seonghwa found no comfort in it. 

Hongjoong sighed at his lack of reaction. “Listen, all I know is that we’re staying put here until we can get the all clear. I’m supposed to help keep you alive, and that’s it. The other people are still out there, most likely, so you’re not clear to even leave his apartment. I’d offer to grab you things from your apartment, but seeing as it’s compromised-” 

“I don’t need anything from it,” Seonghwa assured him, trying to make his mind focus. “But it would probably help if I had access to a laptop.” 

“I gave you one already,” Hongjoong said, pointing to the couch. 

“I don’t know the code for that one,” he reminded him, staring at the ceiling to avoid rolling his eyes  _ yet again _ . 

“You didn’t watch when I typed it in?” Hongjoong questioned, and when Seonghwa shook his head, he chuckled, some of the ice in his eyes melting. “Noble pride,” he muttered. “It’s just the numbers zero through ten.” 

“You said that laptop was for work,” Seonghwa said. 

“It is.” 

“Then why is your code so easy?” he demanded. Their laptops contained  _ everything _ .

“Who would ever guess it?” Hongjoong asked, shrugging. “Anyway, you can use that one for anything you need. Not that I’m sure what you plan on using it, since we’re stuck here.” 

“I can use it for plenty,” Seonghwa assured him, pushing his chair back. 

“ _ Hey _ !” Hongjoong’s voice cracked across the table like a whip and Seonghwa froze, sure that he was about to hear a gunshot or glass shatter, but Hongjoong just glared at him. “Eat your fucking food,” he said, glaring daggers. “And finish drinking the juice. I am  _ not  _ having your fine ass pass out in my goddamn apartment.” 

Seonghwa stared. “You yelled like there was a sniper behind me for  _ that _ ?”

“I made you that food,” Hongjoong said firmly, pointing with his chopsticks. “Eat it. Or I’ll pin you down and make you eat it, and believe me, I’d prefer the first time I pin you down to be more pleasant.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but didn’t trust Hongjoong not to try and follow through on the threat. He made a show of taking a bite, glaring at Hongjoong the entire time who grinned. “Even sleep deprived and pissed, you’re still hot.” Seonghwa pretended to gag, and Hongjoong only seemed more please. “So you do have a gag refl-” 

“Hongjoong, please,” Seonghwa broke in, firm but not quite as sharp as he intended. “You were doing so well with only being minimally rage-inducing.” 

Hongjoong touched his chest, sniffing around fake tears of emotion. “You thought I was only minimally rage-inducing? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“No, it’s not,” he snorted, once again almost forgetting to be annoyed. “I complimented your ass extensively the first time we met.”

“Which time?” Hongjoong asked coyly. “You never said a thing about my ass.” 

Seonghwa glared. “Not verbally. But that first night we met. You even mentioned it, stop acting coy.”  

Hongjoong lowered his lashes, staring down at Seonghwa. “You mean that one time where I tried to sleep with you?”

“You’ve never  _ stopped  _ trying to sleep with me.” 

~

Seonghwa still remembered walking around a club, post-mission make out session and a single name sitting in his mind: No Soobae. He had barely had to  _ try  _ and the guy he was in the lap of had spilled  _ everything _ . After the last week’s mission that had ended a little more sourly, he was riding a significant high. This was back before clubs had lost all their novelty. 

Dancing still was the farthest thing from his scene, but it was enjoyable to sit at the bar, get a couple drinks (never too many- Seonghwa never got anywhere close to tipsy in public places), and kiss a few strangers without needing to concentrate on wringing out information without causing suspicions. 

That particular night had a been more of a sit by and watch. He’d let one girl kiss him, pushing her along after only seconds, but he let one cute guy linger a little longer before the man got distracted to  another man further down the bar. Seonghwa nursed his one drink, gazes tracing over the writhing bodies and grinding that was supposed to pass for dancing. 

Well, he should probably head home soon and get his report in to Eden. Seonghwa sighed, setting hs half-full cup down and sliding off the barstool. 

He felt the skin-prickle of someone approaching on his left, but waited until he felt the warm press of a body against him to look over, and he looked down at a man who smiled up at him as it they were already stripped down in his bed together. 

Back then, Hongjoong was still Hongjoong. Seonghwa could see straight through the sheer crop that barely brushed the top of high waisted leather pants with a single long, purposefully stark zipper from the very top ending between his legs. His hair wasn’t so long- but still fluffed enough for hands to grab. His smile had lost none of its charming sarcasm. 

But Seonghwa was not used to this yet. He had yet to grow immune. And he stared at everything with all the focus of following a suspect through a crowd, intrigued. 

The (at the time) stranger practically draped himself over Seonghwa, smirking warmly. “You’ve been sitting over here by your lonesome for a while,” he said, voice sultry and dark, like watching coffee droplets disperse in water, tainting the air around them. “No one here interesting enough for you attentions?” 

Hongjoong was short, compared to Seonghwa. He had to push onto his toes slightly to reach Seonghwa’s neck, resting his lips against it. “I’d hate for you to leave without getting to have some fun.” A gentle kiss to his jugular. 

Seonghwa made it a rule to never outright reject people. Even people he didn’t need intel from. It gave off a vibe that he couldn’t afford, and it risked pissing off too many people who could try and interfere later. So, he would tease a bit, drop some excuse and slip his way out without inciting any heartbroken men or women to try and throw drinks in his face.

So, though Seonghwa was planning on going home, and wasn’t really in the mood to have fun, he allowed Hongjoong to whisper warm words against his neck. 

“Not that no one is interesting,” Seonghwa said, one hand coming up to rest on Hongjoong’s tiny waist that Seonghwa thought he might actually be able to encircle entirely with both his hands. “Just didn’t find the right person.” 

Hongjoong felt delicate as he pressed against him, chuckling. “I could be your right person, Anything you want… or need,” he whispered, licking just below Seonghwa’s ear with just enough force that goosebumps actually flared out along his skin. 

And back then, Seonghwa really had been… perhaps “less boring” as Hongjoong may call it. His life had not yet lost all the novelty of kissing strangers and not remembering their names in the morning. He never let it go too far (security hazards and too compromising of positions) but was Seonghwa opposed to letting a stranger push him against a wall for a few minutes when Seonghwa didn’t did to twist his tongue in knots just to get him to talk? 

Absolutely not. 

Especially not when they looked like this. 

Seonghwa had always been told he had more delicate features. It was part of what made him good for this scene- small enough to entice someone looking for a more delicate partner, but “model handsome” (as Yeosang said) enough for someone looking for a more man-side of the spectrum. 

Hongjoong was all dainty delicateness. There was nothing broad or handsome about him, it was all slim waists and features, sharp make up,  _ beautiful _ face, and painted nails that were scratching lightly at Seonghwa’s shirt. He didn’t need to appeal to both sides of the spectrum, he was appealing enough on one extreme for even the pickiest partner. 

And yeah, maybe that had included Seonghwa. 

He hummed, Hongjoong nibbling at all the sensitive spots of his neck, making Seonghwa swallow. “I’ve some time before I was going to head home,” he said, voice as steady as he could make it. “What did you have in mind?” 

He could feel Hongjoong’s smirk against his neck, and Seonghwa had always had his share of confident partners- he was practically swimming in them- but rarely did they have anything to back it up with, and Seonghwa was left trying to act as if these people were making it easy to fake any sort of pleasure at all. 

But Hongjoong… 

(Warm lips sucked along his exposed collar bone, small but noticeably strong hands landing on and rubbing firm, promising circles on his hips.) 

Seonghwa was used to being the one in control. Even if the other party didn’t know it, didn’t look for it, he was always keeping on hand on the reins, directing with subtle tugs and clandestine urges. But Hongjoong felt like he was sliding one painted hand alongside Seonghwa’s on that rein, whispering to let him take a turn. 

And Seonghwa could never let go of that rein. That was a death wish of the stupidest kind. 

But no one had ever attempted to take it either. Most didn’t even notice he had it. 

And Seonghwa did not let go of it. But was it slightly intoxicating, thinking that there was someone out there good enough, clever enough, persuasive enough to try and share that control. And so when Hongjoong pressed further against him, pressing Seonghwa’s back into the bar, and tilting his head back...

He wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes were blown black, one hand curling in Seonghwa’s shirt, tongue darting out and wetting his lips quickly. “I was thinking… a little bit of everything.” He kissed Seonghwa’s jaw, trailing warm lips further up with a confidence Seonghwa was slightly stunned in front of, and… maybe, it did feel nice to try and pretend he could actually find someone he could drop that rein with. 

Hongjoong chuckled. “I’m interesting in finding out what makes you tick,” he whispered, lips ghosting over Seonghwa’s finally, and Seonghwa could not remember the last time he was actually excited to kiss someone. “I want to know what makes you twist-” a gentle kiss- “what makes you writhe-” a kiss- “what makes you  _ scream _ .” 

It was nothing Seonghwa hadn’t heard a million times before, but by God was it the first time Seonghwa believed the person. Seonghwa went to respond to the words, but Hongjoong grabbed him by the open collar of his shirt and dragged him down in a hard kiss. 

Seonghwa actually  _ shivered _ and there was excitement and nerves racing along his skin because this was something  _ new _ . This was actually being pressed against someone who could stand toe to toe with him. Seonghwa was so tired of having to do all the work, and yeah, it did get pretty goddamn frustrating when he had to do so much just to get someone off, and then sit there in horrendous boredom and act as if they were doing a good job returning the favor. 

Hongjoong had barely even touched him, and it already felt like he was pressing all his buttons. 

At least, it felt like that from where Hongjoong was stroking his soft palate with a practiced tongue, and Seonghwa’s hand fell to his hips, squeezing them tightly as heat raced from every point of contact he had with Hongjoong. 

His hands traced across the back of his hips and ended at the swell of his ass, and Seonghwa ran his palms across the leather covering it, before squeezing it firmly. 

Hongjoong moaned into his mouth at the sensation, sharp hips snapping forward and dragging against Seonghwa’s hard and slow, one hand tangling in his hair hard enough to sting as Hongjoong licked into his mouth rapidly, as if they had only seconds to get as far as possible, and Seonghwa- 

Seonghwa was not complaining. He kept a grip on Hongjoong, giving another tight grasp here and there to his ass, making him moan in a way that made Seonghwa think he might have some sort of thing with having his ass touched, but he simply let him take whatever he wanted, focusing solely on the mouth working against his with a skill Seonghwa thought must be something taught by God. 

He sucked on Hongjoong’s tongue sharply, and the smaller man moaned, deep and abandoned, and Seonghwa opened his eyes a crack, seeing a far away expression on Hongjoong’s face, eyes closed as if he were savoring a flavor. His hips stuttered against Seonghwa’s again, and when was the last time something so trivial had actually made Seonghwa hard without him having to actively try in order to not disappoint his partners? 

And Seonghwa began weighing the choices of sleeping with the man in front of him. Because Seonghwa was sure this was going to be a one in a lifetime experience, but could he really afford it? There were plenty of back rooms in the club, plenty of bathrooms stalls that would do just fine, but he really didn’t know if he should. 

But maybe he could… Given how much he was responding already to a bare minimum, Seonghwa didn’t think it would take long for either of them to get off, and he could still be home within the next couple of hours, so was there really any harm? 

Seonghwa suddenly flipped them, taking Hongjoong hips and twisting until he was pressing the smaller to the bar, and Hongjoong blinked in surprise before his lips curled up, looping his arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “Oh, yes, I like this,” he whispered, head tilted back. “Don’t be afraid to leave any marks,” he assured him. “I don’t mind.” 

Seonghwa didn’t go for his neck though, claiming his lips. Hongjoong laughed in the back of his throat, one hand falling from Seonghwa’s shoulders to palm at his crotch, and Seonghwa inhaled sharply as Hongjoong grinned. “So sensitive,” he whispered against Seonghwa. “When was the last time you had a good fuck?” 

Seonghwa didn’t answer, one hand grabbing Hongjoong’s leg and lifting it as he pressed against him, other hand kneading the flesh of his ass (as much as he could through tight leather). Hongjoong gasped, hips rutting forward and the hand at Seonghwa’s neck digging sharp nails into his skin as Hongjoong’s head fell back. 

“Do you really like my ass that much?” He panted, chest heaving. 

“I’m still checking,” he breathed back as Hongjoong grinned, tilting his head to the side, offering the entire expanse of his smooth, pale skin. 

This time, Seonghwa did kiss his neck, sucking a deep bruise that made Hongjoong writhe against the bar, incoherent words falling from his lips and Seonghwa smirked at them, for once, feeling satisfaction at drawing out those kinds of sounds. 

Hongjoong pushed his hips forward, chasing friction, and thrust them back, seeking Seonghwa’s hand on his ass harder. Seonghwa licked at his collarbones, sharp and prominent against his lips, and Hongjoong trailed his hand from Seonghwa neck down his shirt, scratching, before lifting his head back up, forcing Seonghwa back. 

One hand cupped his jaw, forcing their lips together in a hot rush, Seonghwa pressing Hongjoong into the bar, bending him backwards and Hongjoong’s calloused hand directed his jaw- 

Calluses. 

Seonghwa jerked back as if burned, Hongjoong moaning at the loss, opening his eyes, but Seonghwa snatched the hand that had touched his face. He pulled away from Hongjoong, heart rising to his throat as he dragged a hand over Hongjoong’s, feeling rough, worked spots across his palm, pinky, and ring finger. He felt smaller ones across the top of his hand- along his middle and forefinger. 

Identical to the ones on Seonghwa’s hands. 

He kept his grip on Hongjoong’s hand as he lifted his eyes to search his face. 

Hongjoong smiled at him innocently. Any sort of heat between them vanished as a chill cracked through the air. 

“Who the hell are you?” Seonghwa demanded darkly, grip tightening. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Hongjoong lifted an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Seonghwa lifted Hongjoong’s hand in front of his face, eyes deadly. “Don’t play dumb. Why the fuck do you have gun calluses?” he bit out through gritted teeth. 

Holy shit, he may have just fucked up royally. 

But Hongjoong didn’t seem intimidated in the least, tilting his head. “Well, let’s see if we can’t piece that together. I have hands. I have calluses you get from shooting guns.” He held up his other hand curiously. “What the ever living fuck could have happe-” 

“Who the fuck do you work for?” he spat, glancing around the bar, but the music was too loud to hear them, and no one was even looking their way, too caught up in dancing and kissing. Seonghwa wanted to rinse his mouth as Hongjoong simply grinned. 

“Well, I do carry an ID,” he said. “It’s in my back pocket.” He pushed his hips forward to bring his ass away from the bar, shifting it slightly. “You’re welcome to check it.” 

And all the confidence and smirks that had been so attractive seconds ago only made Seonghwa’s heart drop further and further into his chest, a different kind of heat rushing beneath his skin. Seonghwa took Hongjoong’s other hand, holding both of his tiny wrists in one of his hands, and Hongjoong grinned. 

“Ooh, I like where this is going,” he said, testing Seonghwa’s grip, making him tighten it. “Is this where you handcuff me and things get  _ really  _ interesting?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Seonghwa snapped, using his grip to pull Hongjoong forward, and in his back pocket was a slim card wallet. He leaned forward, grabbing it, and felt warm, soft lips press a sucking kiss to his neck. 

He jerked back, cursing, and Hongjoong chuckled, winking. “Shouldn’t get so close if you want me to keep my hands to myself.” 

“Stop talking now, before I shoot you,” Seonghwa muttered darkly, turning the wallet over, and through a little plastic sleeve, he could see a picture ID of the man- Kim Hongjoong- and roamed over little factoids about age, weight, blood type- 

And, sitting in the top left corner of the ID, a faint little watermark, of a K and a Q intertwined. 

Seonghwa’s eyes snapped up. “You work for KQ?” 

Hongjoong looked  _ so fucking smug _ . “Unless someone lied to me on the paperwork.” 

Seonghwa’s teeth ground together. “You do know that the person you just tried to sleep with also works under that agency,  _ right _ ?” 

Really, what are the odds that the one person Hongjoong try to sleep with also be- 

But Hongjoong nodded. “Oh, yeah, of course I know,” He assured Seonghwa who blinked in shock. He chuckled. “What- you think I just happened to pick the only fucking agent in all this club to try and fuck?”

“Then what the hell do you think you were doing?” Seonghwa demanded in a low hiss. “What were you thinking, acting like that to another agent-” 

Hongjoong snorted. “What?” he asked coyly. “Because we’re both agents we can’t fuck?”

“We’re in the  _ field _ . I could have been in the middle of a mission for all you knew!” 

“You weren’t on a mission, I watched you work that man into a tizzy- a very hot thing to watch, by the way-  and then walk away with a shit eating grin- you accomplished your mission, which means you’re free for the rest of the night.” 

Seonghwa glared. “You’re insane if you think this is going anywhere.” 

“Aw, you’re not into sleeping with coworkers? Believe me, it’s not as awkward as you think.” He smirked, lips curling and eyelids lowering. “I thought we were doing a pretty job of getting there.” 

Seonghwa dropped Hongjoong hands, throwing them back at him. 

There were any number of things that Seonghwa could cite that explained exactly why two agents sleeping together would be disastrous, but most of all, he didn’t really care for Hongjoong’s attitude towards it all. The secrecy, as if he would have gone the entire night and never bother to say a word. The man was a total asshole. Seonghwa felt slightly used, which was not something he was used to feeling, despite his profession. 

No fucking wonder Hongjoong was good at guiding the reins, he had the same fucking training Seonghwa did, and Seonghwa somehow didn’t notice his own tactics being used against him, he was so  _ fucking stupid-  _

In basic summation: the mood was obliterated. 

“Stop trying to sleep with agents in the field,” he snapped. 

Hongjoong scoffed. “What are you- some sort of rule book junkie?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “You’re an asshole, and I’m leaving,” he said firmly. 

“Can I tag along?” Hongjoong asked, stepping towards Seonghwa who moved back, glaring. 

“Why the hell would I let you come?” 

And Hongjoong’s eyes danced with mirth. “If that’s what you’re into, I have no problem with that. I’ve got good stamina.” 

Seonghwa frowned, confused for a moment, before his brain caught up with the innuendo. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.“What the hell is wrong with you?” he scoffed, voice dripping with disgust as he turned away. 

He heard Hongjoong laughing behind him. “Good luck getting home. I’ll look forward to the next time we meet. Maybe we can pick up where we left off.”

It was a night that sparked eight years of misery for Seonghwa. And eight years of apparent fucking delight for Hongjoong. 

~

“You’ve never  _ stopped  _ trying to sleep with me.” 

“But,” Hongjoong said, holding up a finger, “it should be a great stroke to your ego knowing I have so many options yet choose to pursue you. Even after so many years of rejection.”

Seonghwa huffed, glaring. “Most people would learn to take a hint.” 

And Hongjoong smiled, bright and teasing and genuine, but Seonghwa’s eyes traced up to a slight tension around his eyes, as if he was staring into something too bright to be comfortable. It was well hidden among smile lines and sarcasm, but Seonghwa noted the extra creases under his eyes despite his grin. 

Seonghwa frowned. 

Hongjoong chuckled, taking Seonghwa orange juice and going to take a sip as he muttered to himself, something that Seonghwa maybe wasn’t even meant to be able to hear. 

“You’re the one who can’t seem to take a hint, Seonghwa.” 

Seonghwa frowned. Him take a hint? What hint? That Hongjoong wanted to sleep with him? That wasn’t a hint, Hongjoong had all the subtlety of a raging bull in a china shop. 

Hongjoong drained the orange juice. 

Hongjoong hopped off the stool casually, as if nothing was to be discussed. 

Seonghwa opened his mouth as he stood as well  to demand an explanation for the vague, targeting statement. 

The window exploded. 

Living area, window, gunshots,  _ bullets _ -

Seonghwa lunged forward the short distance, grabbing Hongjoong and twisting until they both hit the ground, Seonghwa laying on top of him for a moment, as bullet after bullet sounded against the dry wall of the apartment. 

“Guns,” Hongjoong hissed, hitting Seonghwa’s chest to get him to move. 

“We’re on the third floor,” Seonghwa snapped, staring at Hongjoong, only inches from his face. “That’s gotta be a sniper- we can’t take that out with fucking handguns, unless you’ve got something bigger hidden in this apartment.” 

Hongjoong shook his head. The lightbulb above them shattered, and Seonghwa dropped over Hongjoong, covering his face with his chest as tiny shards of glass rained down, Seonghwa just praying it didn’t get into his eyes- 

“We’re compromised,” Seonghwa said into Hongjoong’s shoulder, not willing to move and drop the glass on his back onto the man under him. “Do you have any sort of survival-” 

The gunshots stopped. 

Seonghwa waited, holding his breath for only a moment before he swallowed. “Close your eyes, don’t get glass in them,” he ordered. 

Adrenaline courses familiarly as Seonghwa could finally stopping thinking and worrying and just act on instinct and muscle memory. 

Hongjoong squeezed them shut tightly, and Seonghwa moved quickly, rolling off and grateful that he was still wearing thicker clothing from yesterday. Hongjoong on the other hand, was in sweats and bare feet. “Do you have a Go Bag?” Seonghwa demanded, shifting carefully to avoid the tiny shards and keep himself below their line of sight. 

“Bedroom, closet,” Hongjoong said, eyeing the glass around him. “Toss me the blanket on the couch.” 

Seonghwa crawled along the ground, reaching up without lifting his head- 

Several more gunshots, and he dropped to the ground, looking to Hongjoong who simply laid still, arm protecting his face as drywall rained from the walls. 

The far wall of the kitchen was honeycombed with bullet holes. 

Seonghwa rolled up the blanket. “Catch,” he said, tossing it. Hongjoong caught it, carefully unrolling it, eyes focused and hands careful. 

“Go,” Hongjoong said. “I’ll be ready by the time you get out- Stay away from the window in my room!” he said sharply, laying the blanket beside him to roll over onto to avoid the glass. 

Seonghwa nodded, crawling along the floor of the hallway. 

He still heard bullets outside. 

The room was dark, and Seonghwa didn’t even bother glancing around, heading straight for the closet. Apparently the men were too focused on the living room because nothing shattered the window as Seonghwa found a little black duffle bag stuffed full, grabbing it and slinging it over his shoulder. He snatched a pair of sneakers.

Back in the living area, Hongjoong sat with his back against the side of the kitchen cabinets, out of sight and breathing a little hard as he picked a piece of glass from his arm that was bleeding slightly. Two guns sat by his side. His eye were like ice again. 

“Here,” Seonghwa said, tossing the shoes, waiting in the curve of the hallway. Hongjoong began pulling on the shoes. The bullets stopped. Hongjoong slid the gun to Seonghwa, who grabbed it, cocking it steadily. 

“Where to?” Hongjoong questioned, staring at Seonghwa with a cocked eyebrow. 

Seonghwa certainly hadn’t expected Hongjoong to defer to him, but he swallowed, glancing towards the window. 

His first instinct was to go to the company, but he couldn’t risk leading them there. And after all the suspicions… “Nearest safe house is thirty minutes on foot, fifteen by car.”

“Do we have a car?” Hongjoong asked incredulously. 

“Mine should still be parked by the shopping district, granted that they haven’t blown it up or taken in. It’s our best bet, though. These guys seem to be pretty fucking persist-” 

More bullets. One of them catching dangerously close to the cabinets Hongjoong leaned against. He flinched away, covering his face from the splintering wood. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he said, shifting forward. “I fucking hate being a sitting duck.” 

Duffle bag in hand, Seonghwa and Hongjoong crawled to the door, avoiding the glass, and reached the front door. “Hold,” Seonghwa whispered, and Hongjoong waited, hand posed and ready on the doorknob. “We’re going to have to sprint the whole way,” Seonghwa warned him. Hongjoong nodded once. 

The gunshots ceased. “Go,” Seonghwa hissed. 

Hongjoong tore the door open. 

Both men stood, guns held. Seonghwa didn’t glance back as they ran along the hallway, turning to the stairs at breakneck speeds, their legs matching pace, Seonghwa’s eyes hard. 

When he glanced at Hongjoong, his eyes echoed the same. 

And Seonghwa was surprised at the reaffirmation in his chest. The same sensation as when he was assigned to an agent he knew he worked well with. The sensation that told him he could actually rely on the agent next to him. 

They burst out into the sunlight, Hongjoong glancing back and eyes trailing over Seonghwa, as if checking for injury. 

“Lead the way,” Hongjoong told him. “I’ll watch your back.” His raised his gun more steady, nodding for Seonghwa to run in front. 

Multiple snipers and only one person with a handgun to watch his six. And yet, Seonghwa didn’t hesitate, running in front and only sparing Hongjoong a cursory glance before turning his eyes away and concentrating on watching his front.

It was almost as if he trusted Hongjoong to watch his back. 

Truly, what was his world coming to? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope nothing sucked ㅇㅁㅇ  
> I really am trying to make these good and the plot gets a little thicker here on out so I’ll try and get them out quick without cutting anything short!   
> Thank you for all your lovely comments!  
> -SS


	3. A Shitty Fucking Person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found time to throw this together, and I personally think it’s a bit rushed, but I have stuff over the next few days so I wanted to post it before I got busy~   
> I loved the comments on my last chapter, so thank you all so much!   
> I hope you all enjoy this little monster of a chapter! 15k But I couldn’t find a place to break it off so I’m sorry~   
> Enjoy!   
> -SS

Seonghwa and Hongjoong made it to the nearly-empty park without another gunshot following them. 

Seonghwa wanted to look back, but kept his focus on the road in front of him. He could hear Hongjoong behind him, and just had to trust that that would be enough. 

“Probability that they’re still chasing after us silently?” Hongjoong posed, running a little faster to be just behind Seonghwa by a step. 

He wanted to curse, but kept it silent in his chest. “Probably pretty good. I thought I lost them when I got to your apartment, but clearly that woman followed me anyway.” 

“It’ll be easier to lose them in a car,” Hongjoong said- firm but almost as if reassuring him. 

And Seonghwa didn’t like it- didn’t like it one bit- that they made it through the park with nothing. Down the side street. Nothing. They were back at the shopping district, and further down he could see regular police tape and cars in the area he had been in the day before. 

These men following them seemed to operate on a pendulum- absolute chaos and then nothing. Seonghwa didn’t know if it was a psychological tactic or them toying with them or just how they operated, but it set his teeth on edge, every one of his hairs standing on end. 

It didn’t help that his only source of help, it seemed, was only a single man that before this day he would have never trusted to watch his food in the oven, much less his life, but if there was one thing Seonghwa had learned: life and death changed people. 

Evident in the Hongjoong he had seen on the security detail. Evident in how he flipped back and forth between an agent and a flirt- annoying and inconvenient, yes, but Seonghwa was beginning to believe that perhaps when Hongjoong felt like it, he could be competent. 

He just hoped he felt like it. 

“How far is your car?” Hongjoong asked as they moved down the line of cars parked along the street. 

“Only a couple of blocks. Anyone on our sixes?” 

Pause. “Clear.” 

“I’ve used this safehouse once before,” Seonghwa told him, scanning for his car. “It’s got better weapons than we have right now, and emergency electronics.” 

Hongjoong responded with a hum. They kept running. Still nothing. 

Seonghwa suddenly jerked to a stop, almost causing Hongjoong to run into him, the man having to swerve to avoid crashing into his shoulder. “Warning next time,” he muttered, facing the car Seonghwa was staring at. “That’s your car?”

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together tightly, his non-gun hand curling into a fist as his eyes trailed over sunglasses hanging from the rearview mirror. “Keep walking,” he ordered, shoving Hongjoong quickly. “Put your gun away. Try and blend in.” 

And Hongjoong frowned at him, questioning him silently, but followed, slipping the gun into his waistband as Seonghwa did the same. He steered them back towards the crowded area of the shopping district, and walked into the crowds. 

“Was that not your car?” Hongjoong asked as they passed fabric shops. “Did they take it?”

Seonghwa’s mind was running a million miles an hour. “It was my car,” he assured him. “But there were sunglasses hanging from the mirror. Those aren’t mine.” 

“That guy who was watching you?” Hongjoong questioned, turning to see Seonghwa’s face. 

“They were the same kind of glasses.” Seonghwa suddenly hit his head. “I’m so  _ fucking _ stupid, they found my fucking apartment, of course they knew what my fucking car looked like- it’s probably bugged and tracked to hell and back.” 

But that man must have known Seonghwa would see the glasses. Was this just another part of the game? 

Why would they try so hard to kill him, but just play around with him? 

“Okay, so that car’s out of the running,” Hongjoong said as if Seonghwa were not in the middle of wanting to end his own existence. “What else? Can we risk taking a taxi? The bus?” 

“Too slow, too many people,” Seonghwa said, lips pressing together. “If we can just make it on foot to the safehouse, we can contact Eden, we can figure something-” 

But they couldn’t contact Eden. For the same reason he didn’t contact him before. The agency was likely- No. Almost  _ definitely  _ compromised. And Seonghwa was here, trying to lead them to a safehouse-  _ organized by that agency-  _ after saying they could not go to the company because they were  _ fucking compromised-  _

Seonghwa stopped walked, placing a hand over his eyes. 

He was such a  _ fucking  _ idiot. 

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asked, glancing back as people moved around them, grumbling at them blocking the way. 

They couldn’t go to the safehouse, it would be the first place the agency would look for them. Was that how they found him at Hongjoong’s? Was the agency just looking in every place nearby and tearing it apart? Did they see him heading in that direction and know that Hongjoong’s apartment was there? 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said, louder, touching his arm softly. 

“We can’t go to the safehouse,” he said quickly, looking up at Hongjoong’s slightly concerned eyes. “It’ll be the first place they look for us- they have a list of safehouses, they’ll just start ticking them off.” 

But where did they go? Where else was there? Seonghwa had never needed to operate outside of the agency, he had never been on the run from them. He had never needed to be afraid of somewhere the agency assured him was safe. So if nowhere was safe, where did they go? Yeosang’s place, Wooyoung’s- the agency knew about them all. They’d be safe for a while, and then- what?- people burst in, guns blazing to the house of someone not even a field agent? But where else was there? Not safehouses, not his own house, not- 

“Hey.” The gentle touch on his arm turned into a firm grip. When Seonghwa looked back at him, torn out of his panic, Hongjoong stared at him, eyes hard. “Are you freaking out on me?” he demanded. “Because you need to cut that shit out now.” His grip tightened on Seonghwa’s arm as he glanced around. “Keep walking, we look like idiots standing here,” he said, guiding Seonghwa along with the flow of the crowd. “Talk to me- where are we going? What’s the plan? Do we even have one?” 

Seonghwa was not freaking out, he was doing guided panicking. “I don’t know,” he muttered, rubbing at his face. “I don’t know, I can’t think of anywhere safe that the agency wouldn’t immediately find us. Or at least track us to after a few hours.” 

Hongjoong nodded. “Alright, then what about places that aren’t safe?” he asked. 

“What?”

“Non-secure locations,” he said sternly. “Places not sanctioned by the agency. Ordinary places we could stay without being connected to KQ.” 

Seonghwa didn’t know. The agency had long arms and a tight grip. “Hotels,” he said helplessly, grasping at straws. “That’s just about the only place I can think of that the agency doesn’t have a direct hand in. But the moment we try and use a card, we’re fucked- they’ll track it in an instant.” 

“I have cash in the bag,” Hongjoong said, nodding to the bag Seonghwa had forgotten he was even carrying. “A lot of it.” He frowned. “There’s a shitty motel near the edge of the city. They wouldn’t ask any questions. If we take some back roads, we can get there quicker and probably keep out of the sights of whoever’s following us.” 

Seonghwa wet his lips. A hotel… it was so close to a lot of innocent people, but if it was off the beaten path, if they could lose the people along the way… 

“It’s our best bet,” he said, tone firming up as his mind decided on a course of action. “You can get us there?” 

Hongjoong grinned- but it wasn’t flirty. It was excited. “Now you get to watch my six,” he said. Seonghwa waited for  quip about watching his ass, but it didn’t come. Hongjoong took one quick glance around and grabbed Seonghwa’s wrist, guiding him sideways through the crowd as they walked along the edge of the building. “We’re gonna be out of the crowd now, so watch above,” Hongjoong said, picking a side street and walking down it. 

The warning didn’t sound like a chiding reminder. It didn’t sound like he thought Seonghwa had forgotten. It sounded like agents talking in the field. Seonghwa’s hackles didn’t raise in defense. 

“I’ve got it, just lead on.” He pulled his gun, but kept it at his side as Hongjoong and he took off running again. 

They wound their way through more back alleys and side streets that Seonghwa lost track of miles ago, but Hongjoong seemed to know exactly where he was going, not hesitating as he checked alleys before ushering them down. 

Seonghwa kept his eyes at the rooftops above them, looking for shadows, glancing behind them to ensure that no footsteps followed them. No one appeared. 

Their breathing got heavier as they ran, the longer they pushed themselves mile after mile, but they didn’t slow down. A stitch grabbed at his side, but he breathed through it, noticing a slight drag to Hongjoong’s legs as well. 

Hongjoong paused at the mouth of a street, glancing to check if it was clear outside of it. “Just another block,” he muttered, pressing against his side. “God, I hate long distance running,” he hissed. 

“That makes two of us, keep going,” Seonghwa said. 

The last block blurred by, and when Hongjoong finally turned down the last street, he pointed. “That one there,” he said. Seonghwa saw a chipped, yellow, single story motel sitting between a gas station and an empty lot. There was a pole where a sign used to be attached, but all that was left was a frame and shattered light bulbs. 

Seonghwa didn’t think “shitty” began to describe it. 

They walked, Seonghwa almost constantly checking over his shoulder now that they had slowed down, and they finally reached an overhanging outside a door with letters peeling off spelling out a sad FR-NT D-SK. 

“Wait here,” Hongjoong said, turning Seonghwa and unzipping the bag, digging around inside and pulling out a thick envelope. “Make sure no one shows up while I get us set up.” 

Seonghwa didn’t want either of them going off alone, but he nodded hesitantly as Hongjoong pushed the heavy door open and disappeared inside. There was a young, scrawny man sitting at a stained desk, reading a newspaper. Seonghwa got a whiff of mildew in the air as the door swung closed. 

Gun held firmly, he scanned the parking lot, taking note of the sun high in the sky. There were a few scattered cars which made Seonghwa grateful that perhaps there wouldn’t be many people to get potentially caught in the crossfire. 

The door behind him opened, and Seonghwa turned as Hongjoong exited, smirking, and holding up a silver, worn out key. “We’re good to go.” 

Seonghwa, however, trailed his eyes over Hongjoong’s lips that were definitely a deeper red than they were before. “Did you seriously kiss that guy?” he demanded, disbelief echoing. 

Hongjoong was already walking down the sidewalk. “Did I  _ convince  _ the front desk to forget he ever saw us? Yes, I did,” he said primly. “Money isn’t the only currency to deal in, Seonghwa.” 

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond. The rooms were through a small gate, in a sort of courtyard, arranged in a U around a dying little garden with a broken fountain. It truly was an awful, dying place. 

Hongjoong walked to the very corner- a room that would give them a view of the entire courtyard area- and inserted the key, pushing it open. “This will do fine,” he said to himself, smiling over his shoulder at Seonghwa. 

The room wasn’t as bad as Seonghwa thought it could be. At least, it seemed structurally stable. The walls were stained, but it at least only smelled like a car air freshener. The bathroom door was ajar, and it at least had a sink, toilet, and shower (assuming they all worked). It was big enough to fit an old TV and stand, a side table, a bathroom door, a bed- 

“Why is there only one bed?” 

Truthfully, this was the least of the problems with the room, but Seonghwa stared at the single queen bed, and it almost seemed mocking. He turned to glare at Hongjoong who wasn’t grinning, but just stared innocently as he sat on it. 

“Hongjoong, what the fuck did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” he assured Seonghwa quickly, leaning against the headboard. “I got us a room.” 

“With only one bed. When there’s two of us.” 

“This hotel doesn’t come with rooms with more than one bed,” Hongjoong said matter-of-factly. 

Seonghwa frowned, wondering if Hongjoong was truly trying to fuck with him now. “Why would they not have more than one bed?” Please tell him Hongjoong was not using this as a way to try and sleep with him.  _ Please- _

“There’s no need for them. Anyone coming here isn’t looking to sleep separately.” 

Seonghwa stared. Hongjoong stared back, lips upturned but muted. 

“Hongjoong, if you tell me that you took us to a fucking love hotel, I am going to throw you out of that door.” 

“No one is ever going to look for us here!” Hongjoong assured him. “Listen, the entire agency knows we’re at each other’s throats. Do you honestly think anyone they asked would ever think two agents would take cover in a  _ love hotel _ ?” He lifted an eyebrow, silently challenging. “You have to admit, it’s a good cover. And look-” he gestured to the bed with threadbare covers and sheet- “it’s a queen bed. You can have your side, and I’ll stay on my side.” 

Seonghwa held back the part of him that demanded he snap back, that wanted to tell Hongjoong he’d rather sleep on the floor (the now very questionably stained floor), but he forced it down. Think. Don’t react. 

It was perhaps… a good cover. Far enough away, out of the way, full of people also probably trying not to get caught who wouldn’t bring attention to them, and yes… Seonghwa was sure that the last place anyone expected to find two on the run agents would be a shitty love hotel. 

That didn’t mean he had to like it. But if he could last four days chained to a basement door, he could survive existing in a single room with Hongjoong (but he did have a gun now, and there was nothing in that basement that had been practically begging to be shot). 

“First thing first,” Seonghwa said, pushing the problem back in his mind as he scanned the room. “Does this place have WiFi? Does your bag have a laptop?” His eyes landed on the phone sitting on the bedside table and he walked over. 

“Yes and yes,” Hongjoong said, shifting over when Seonghwa pushed at him, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up the phone that looked like it should have been thrown out decades ago. 

“I’m going to call Yeosang,” Seonghwa said, wiping the dust and oils off on his shirt. “See what he can tell me about what the fuck is going on.” 

“You don’t think his calls are being tracked?” Hongjoong asked, scooting a little closer to Seonghwa to peer over his shoulder. 

“Not on his personal phone,” Seonghwa said, beginning to type in the memorized number he rarely used. “He never uses it, but he carries it for when his Mom calls.” 

Hongjoong’s next questions was quieter, but no less firm: “And you don’t think he’s in on it, if it is the agency after  us?” 

Seonghwa’s finger paused above the five, wetting his lips as Hongjoong continued to stare at him with a slight frown. Part of him wanted to snap something harsh back, something about him not knowing Yeosang, but Seonghwa considered the idea carefully: was he willing to risk everything to bet that Yeosang hadn’t betrayed him?

Did he think Yeosang would do that? 

“No, I don’t,” he said softly, continuing to type it in. “Not Yeosang, not Wooyoung, not Yunho- Not even Eden, though I can’t contact him in any way outside of official means. If anyone’s being watched closely, it’s him. My team is  _ not _ in on it.” He sat the phone down, pressing the ‘speaker’ button like a punctuation. 

Hongjoong was quiet as the first ring went through softly. “Alright, then.” 

Seonghwa waited as one ring, two rings, three rings, four rings, five- 

It stopped, the click of the call being answered sounding. Seonghwa waited. There were quiet whispers, distant. “Hello?” Yeosang’s voice came through in a quiet whisper, as if he were hiding somewhere. 

Seonghwa frowned. “Yeosang,” he greeted. “Where are you?” 

“Oh my God, hyung, you’re okay,” Yeosang sighed heavily. “You didn’t  _ call-  _ Eden said something about an email, but I didn’t hear from you since-” 

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa broke in firmly, aware of Hongjoong slowly pressing closer to listen. “I’m glad to hear you too, but I don’t want to drag this out too long. Where are you right now?” 

“At the agency,” Yeosang whispered. “Currently hiding in the bathroom. I saw an unknown number, I didn’t know if it was you, but I stepped away from a meeting- Hyung, where are you? Are you okay? Did you meet up with Hongjoong and everything?” 

“Listen, Yeosang,” Seonghwa said, swerving the questions, “I want to tell you everything, but I don’t want to stay talking too long and risk getting pinged. Can you meet me somewhere tonight?” 

“M-Meet you? I mean, I- yeah, sure, hyung, just tell me where.” Seonghwa wasn’t sure if Yeosang had ever been anywhere near field work in his life, but he was about to find out. “I’ll bring Wooyoung, too.” 

Seonghwa straightened. “Yes, that would actually help a lot- bring Wooyoung.” If anyone could help them get things sorted in Hongjoong’s little emergency laptop, it was Wooyoung. 

Hongjoong tapped on his shoulder roughly, lips thin. “Are you sure about this?” he hissed. “Do you trust both of them to get here without leading them straight to us?” 

Seonghwa waved him off, leaning towards the phone. “I’m gonna hang up right after I tell you, Yeosang, got it?” A quiet hum of acknowledgement. “You might need to GPS it. Near the South end of the city,” he told Yeosang firmly, ignoring Hongjoong tugging quickly on his shirt. “It’s Southeast from the highway, and if you follow the third street north, you’ll see a place between a gas station and a field.” 

He paused, waiting to hear a quiet “Ah.” from Yeosang, before he hung the phone up, letting go of a breath. At least now, they had some people to work with. 

“Please tell me that was code, and you’re not  _ that  _ directionally challenged,” Hongjoong said once the call ended, leaning around Seonghwa to stare. “We’re nowhere near the South end of the city. Those directions were nonsense.” 

“Not to Yeosang they’re not,” Seonghwa said, standing and walking to the duffel bag sitting on the TV stand. “Don’t tell me you never had personal code with your team?” 

“None that were quite so nonsensical. Let me guess- ‘You might need to GPS it’ is the trigger phrase?” 

“He’ll get here,” Seonghwa assured him, pulling out the laptop. “And if he brings Wooyoung with him, we’ll be golden for seeing what’s going on inside the agency.” 

“But they’re s not going to be here till tonight,” Hongjoong noted, folding his legs up as he sat on the bed. “So what do we do until then?” 

“ _ I’m  _ going to start recording everything that’s going on and see if I can’t get some things for Wooyoung to work with when he gets here,” Seonghwa said, glancing fruitlessly for a table or chair to sit on, but there was little other furniture than the bed. He sighed, walking to the opposite side and sitting down, one leg folded and the other resting on the floor as he leaned against the headboard. “I don’t particularly care what you choose to do as long as it doesn’t get us exposed and killed.” 

Hongjoong smiled. “Well, there’s shit all else to do around here,” he said, shifting closer to the middle of the bed. “I’ll watch you work.” 

Seonghwa eyed him from the corner of his vision. “You said you’d stay on your side of the bed.” 

Hongjoong scoffed. “What are you- five?” But he scooted back to his side, leaning back and staring at the laptop. “What are you hoping Wooyoung can do when he gets here?” 

The laptop took the same passcode as the other one they had left behind. By now, it would have melted its own hard drive if those men had searched Hongjoong’s apartment. Seonghwa began typing out everything they had discovered and suspected. 

“If anyone’s going to be able to get into the agency system without setting off red flags, it’s going to be him. I want to see what they’re emailing about, what they’ve been putting out on the wire for people, and how it lines up with us.” 

“Sounds slightly like something you don’t want the company finding out he can do.” Hongjoong lifted a curious eyebrow. 

“Wooyoung worked for a private organization before KQ,” Seonghwa said, only half paying attention to what he was saying as he typed. “Whatever he did- the records are sealed and burned. Even KQ can’t get access to them. But he’s fucking good, so they don’t really care as long as he does his work.” 

“What did he do?” Hongjoong asked, as if he was genuinely curious. 

“Not entirely legal things, we’ll say. A lot of hacking and breaking into places he shouldn’t be. Which means this will be right up his alley.” 

Hongjoong chuckled to himself. “Does everyone on your team have a dark history?” he questioned. “Everyone on mine are just ‘looking for excitement’ or ‘thought this job would have good benefits’.” 

Seonghwa shrugged. “Yunho was going to work at some foreign communication center but KQ scouted him. Yeosang’s family forced him into Communications and Public Relations because they wanted him to become a politician or something, but he jumped at the opportunity to anything but that.”

Hongjoong hummed interestedly. “And what about you? You’ve only been here ten years, right? What was young little Seonghwa doing?” 

He checked the date to make sure he had all the days straight in his head. “Accounting.” Hongjoong snorted, and Seonghwa glanced at him frowning as he hid a grin behind his hands. “What?” he asked, glaring. 

“Nothing,” Hongjoong said quickly, waving his hand. “It’s just makes so much sense and yet none at all. Did you work in a firm?”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, fingers pausing as he watched Hongjoong carefully, who simply looked back at him, expression never shifting. “Do you actually care or are you just trying to lull me into false security with distractions before you try something?” 

Hongjoong’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes did. “Believe me, Seonghwa, we’ve been on this bed together for over twenty minutes. If I was going to try something, I already would have. But I’m not going to. I’m not trying to sleep with you at the moment, I’m asking about your childhood and trying to make pleasant conversation.” 

Seonghwa searched his eyes. And believed him. 

“No conversation with you is ‘pleasant’,” Seonghwa assured him, turning back to the computer. “But if you just wanna hear me talk, whatever. I worked in my father’s firm after school most days. Sort of like an internship. It looked good on paper. Made getting into college easier.” 

“Do you and your father not have a great relationship?” Again, Hongjoong’s voice was unnaturally soft, as if he actually cared that the topic he was broaching might be a sensitive one. Hongjoong never cared what he said or what the consequences of that were. 

But Seonghwa shrugged. “What makes you ask?” 

“Because you look like you’re about to snap my laptop in half.” 

Seonghwa glanced down, his knuckles white as he gripped the side of the laptop, his other hand pressing hard on the mouse. He released the tension in his hands, wetting his lips and glancing at Hongjoong who watched him with an expression Seonghwa couldn’t quite name. 

“I didn’t agree with some of the things he did,” Seonghwa said shortly. “He wasn’t a good person.” 

“Things he did to you?” Hongjoong questioned (Seonghwa was almost stupid enough to call it concern in his eyes). “Or others?” 

Seonghwa tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling that was dark with mildew in the corners. He didn’t particularly care about sharing his past. He hadn’t held back when Yeosang asked, or Wooyoung. It just seemed weird to tell Hongjoong, as if Hongjoong actually cared. “Both. Your kid is a good person to convince to falsify accounting reports. Giving more money to this person, less to that one. You don’t have to worry about them snitching or saying no. What kid can say no to their parents? What kid would ever report it, knowing they’d send their father to jail?” He shrugged one shoulder. “So I just did it until I went off to college. I joined up with KQ basically right after going away.” 

There was a silence, and Seonghwa waited for the quip about that being the source of his noble pride, but Hongjoong just hummed once, and when Seonghwa glanced over, he was staring at a wall. “That’s pretty shitty,” he muttered. Nothing else. 

Seonghwa turned away, back to the computer. “Yeah.” 

Neither of them said another word. The silence wasn’t exactly suffocating, but it was heavy, like a warm blanket on a humid day. 

Seonghwa went back to work, and Hongjoong didn’t ask anymore questions. 

But Seonghwa was faced with many issues coming to a head at once as he glanced at the clock reading 2:56PM. One, he had not had slept last night. Two, he had not gotten enough caffeine this morning. Three, he had sprinted literally across the entire city. Four, it was warm from the sunlight streaming in, he was tired, he was doing boring work, and his eyes kept telling him to close down and sleep. 

He blinked hard, pushing away the tiredness. He wanted to search through the web, see what news was going on about what had happened. He easily found articles about reported gunshots in the shopping district, policemen- 

He blinked, rubbing at his eyes, which only made them heavier, but he kept reading. Even if his eyes were slightly unfocused. 

He blinke- 

“For the love of  _ God _ , just take a nap,” Hongjoong snapped, breaking through the silence like a whip and making Seonghwa look over sharply. 

“What?” he demanded. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “I’ve been sitting here watching you hold your eyes open for the passed twenty minutes- just fucking  lay down and take a nap before you pass out. Your body is clearly telling you to take a fucking break.” 

Seonghwa shook his head sharply, setting the laptop aside. “I don’t need a nap, you poured out my coffee this morning.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to see if this place has any vending machine for some coff-” 

Hongjoong hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back onto the bed. Seonghwa glared as Hongjoong stretched across the bed, still holding on, and eyes clear. “Or,” he said firmly, “you could stop shoving faux-energy into your system and just let yourself crash for a few hours. What are you doing that’s important? You’re just watching news. Your people won’t be here for another few hours, and we can’t start shit without them. So just lay down- don’t even fucking sleep, but stop trying to force your body to keep moving when it’s begging you to stop.” 

Begging him to stop. He almost laughed. 

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on his wrist, like he might try and pull away- his fingers barely long enough to meet even around Seonghwa’s slim wrist. “Just lay down.” It almost- nearly- not quite- perhaps- but didn’t sound like a plead. “Seriously, you look like shit.” 

Seonghwa didn’t want to. He wanted to keep working. But Hongjoong… seemed serious in his request. And even as Seonghwa was sitting here staring at him, his eyes felt heavy again. But everything in his body told him not to give in, as if taking a nap was admitting defeat. 

Sleeping was hard enough for Seonghwa to manage. But sleeping around people? Sleeping around  _ Hongjoong _ ? 

Seonghwa really didn’t think Hongjoong would try anything.  _ Truly _ , that was not his issue. But it was  _ weird _ . They weren’t close but they were currently the only thing keeping each other alive, and Seonghwa had always had a clear line of where their relationship started and ended but now the line was getting blurred. Stepped on. Leapt across- back and forth in a fit of mood swings and realizations. 

What used to be simple: yell, smirk, scoff, storm off… had suddenly changed to apartments, talking, breakfast, trusting, severity, surviving… 

And Seonghwa was having difficulty accepting that. Believing that. Because he knew Hongjoong was an amazing actor. And trying to draw the line between genuine and acting was exhausting and difficult. It made Seonghwa pull away from trying to decipher it because he had bigger problems to deal with than Hongjoong’s rapidly changing personality. 

Hongjoong’s lips pressed together tightly, almost disappointed, as his fingers fell from Seonghwa’s wrist, pulling away from him. Seonghwa watched him retreat, closed his eyes for a moment (already feeling a pull to sleep) and sighed. 

“One hour,” Seonghwa said firmly, holding up a finger. “I’ll rest for an hour, and then I’m getting back to work.” 

“Sure,” Hongjoong said plainly, not fighting him, but he wouldn’t look at Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa sighed, kicking his shoes off at the side of the bed. “I don’t know why you’re so adamant about this, considering I’m not likely to even actually fall asleep.” Despite the exhaustion, it felt too weird to sleep with Hongjoong next to him. And this entire situation was too tense for him to consider actually dropping that guard completely.

“Better laying down and resting, even if you’re not sleeping,” Hongjoong assured him. “You’ve looked like shit since you walked into my apartment, and I feel like if I let your friends see you like this, I will suddenly be missing some very important body parts courtesy of their outrage.” 

Seonghwa snorted, leaning back against the headboard. “Yeosang and Wooyoung can’t handle weapons at all. You would just suddenly cease to exist and have your entire social life ruined in seconds.” 

Hongjoong chuckled gently, and a short silence fell. Well, Seonghwa should probably lay down now… He glanced over and saw Hongjoong watching. “Are you planning on laying down?” Hongjoong asked, voice liting with amusement. 

Seonghwa glared. “I will when you stop staring like a creep. You want me to fall asleep around you when  _ that’s  _ how you look at me when I’m awake?”

Hongjoong laughed again, rolling his eyes and looking away at the ceiling. “I’m not into somnophilia. Think of me as you will, I do actually draw the line at unconscious people.” He glanced at Seonghwa, clicking his tongue. “Consent is sexy.” 

Seonghwa shoved his legs away with his foot, and Hongjoong laughed as he settled back against the pillow. “Wake me if something happens,” Seonghwa sighed, everything about this making his skin crawl. He didn’t like this thought of falling asleep in the middle of everything, but Hongjoong just hummed an affirmative, patting Seonghwa’s shoulder twice before withdrawing. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll scream really loud to let you know if something goes wrong. Now stop talking and go the fuck to sleep.” 

He sighed once more, turning onto his side so he faced away from Hongjoong, and despite his absolutely belief that he would not fall asleep, his eyes got heavy after only minutes. His mind was, for the first time in a long time, sluggish and slow in the bone-deep exhaustion. Part of him was worried for it, but the quieter part could only think “Is this what it feels like to actually  _ rest _ ?”

He walked the line between sleep and not- drifting in and out of consciousness for an unidentified amount of time. At times, he thought he heard someone humming, off at a distance, something not slow, but soft, like they were trying not to be loud. He drifted into darkness for while before his mind became aware of something touching him. 

Half of his brain- still half-asleep and sluggish- wanted to jump away at the touch- instinct and split second decisions demanding he tear himself away from whatever it was away and put distance between himself and it. 

But the other half- slightly more rational, but no less tired and heavy- recognized the fingers carding through his hair slowly: small and cool and nails slightly long. Hongjoong scratched at his scalp lightly before it returning to just brushing his hair. 

The rational part of Seonghwa’s mind wanted to pull away too. Hongjoong was touching him, stroking his hair, and he wanted to pull away from the gentle touch because it didn’t belong. It wasn’t that Hongjoong’s touch disgusted him, but it was  _ wrong _ . It was  _ weird _ . This wasn’t what they  _ were _ . 

God, was he tired.

His limbs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, pinned under the weight of exhaustion and sleep that was not being helped by the gentle almost soothing tugging of his hair. 

It felt strange- foreign-  being touched like this without the rough pull of hair followed by lips on skin. 

But the action was calming, almost absent minded, despite the instinctual reaction he had to pull away from it. He was too tired to fight Hongjoong right now, already floating back towards sleep, being pulled down until he could barely feel the soft touches. 

But by God, Hongjoong was never going to hear the end of this when Seonghwa woke up. 

Provided he remembered. 

 

~~~~~

 

Seonghwa went from dead sleep to fully awake in the course of a second, bolting upright as he heard something creak loudly. 

“Fucking shit,” a voice hissed, and Seonghwa whipped towards it, hand snaking under his pillow, but finding no gun there. 

Hongjoong stared at him where he stood just next to the bed, clutching his chest defensively, and Seonghwa sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hand as he realized where he was. Right. 

“Jesus, do you always wake up like that?” Hongjoong demanded under his breath. “Scared the shit out of me.” He glared at the bed. “Stupid creaky springs.” He looked at Seonghwa, huffing. “Depending on when they head out, Yeosang and Wooyoung should be here soon.” 

Seonghwa frowned, glancing up, and saw dim light streaming through the window. He snapped his head towards the clock, and saw a dull 7:23 PM staring back at him. He looked back at Hongjoong, glaring darkly. “I said an hour, Hongjoong!” he snapped. “Why the fuck did you not-“ 

“You slept like a fucking rock,” Hongjoong assured him, almost seeming impressed. “I got up like five times and you didn’t even  _ move _ , Seonghwa. I was not about to knock you out of that.” 

Seonghwa didn’t remember sleeping that hard in… a long fucking time. Part of him was impressed but part of him wanted to know where the fuck this rest was the passed five years.  “How the hell did I sleep for four hours in the middle of the fucking day,” Seonghwa muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“See what happens when you don’t drink an entire pot of coffee everyday?” Hongjoong said smugly. “You’re welcome.” He walked over to the TV stand. “When was the last time you actually slept, Seonghwa? Because you were fucking  _ drooling _ .” 

Seonghwa swiped at his mouth quickly, and found it relatively dry. Hongjoong turned, tossing Seonghwa a little bottle of orange juice that he caught quickly. “You went out?” He tried to make it sound more demanding but he was still slightly delirious from the deep sleep. 

“Just down the hall to a vending machine. I got hungry.” Hongjoong returned to the bed with his own half-finished bottle. “No, really, I’m about to start forcing you to take some sleeping pills because clearly you fucking need it if you’re passing out that hard.” 

Seonghwa glared at him, and Hongjoong never gave a shit if Seonghwa glared or snapped his teeth, but Hongjoong’s eyes shifted as Seonghwa looked at him. “I already told you, I’m not taking any sleeping pills.” 

_ Begging you to stop _ . 

Hongjoong huffed, appearing nonchalant. “Then your caffeine amount is getting sliced,” Hongjoong said firmly. “If not drinking coffee is what gets you to sleep, I’ll put you cold turkey.” 

“You say as if you get any say over my life.” 

Hongjoong turned unimpressed eyes to him. “Eden told me to keep you alive. Pretty sure that includes self-destructive caffeine addictions.” At Seonghwa’s unimpressed expression, he sighed. “You can’t deny that you slept, can you?” He was silent. “Maybe after they leave tonight, you’ll get to sleep  _ again _ .”  

Seonghwa looked at the clock. “Yeosang usually leaves around this time. He should be here by 8.” 

“And Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asked, voice shifting from playful to slightly more somber. 

“Wooyoung goes where Yeosang goes, he’ll already be with him,” Seonghwa assured him chugging half the orange juice (without pulp this time) and found himself slightly more awake with the cold drink. 

Hongjoong grinned, lips curling. “Oh, so are they like…  _ a thing _ ?”

Seonghwa huffed in amusement, staring at his juice. “According to the agency betting pool? Yes. According to logic? Also yes.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, turning more fully towards Seonghwa. “This sounds like something I’d love to hear more about. Are they just oblivious or do they think they’re subtle?” 

And Seonghwa stopped for a moment, considered the fact that he was really discussing his team’s love life with Hongjoong, and seriously considered if this was something he wanted to continue to do. He wet his lips. “A little bit of everything,” he said stiffly. 

His own past was one thing, but Yeosang and Wooyoung who would be here within the hour was another. 

Hongjoong huffed, leaning back against the headboard. “You’re no fun,” he muttered, glancing out of the corner of his eye. “But they’re like…  _ working out _ ?” 

Seonghwa thought back to a few weeks ago (it felt like so much longer) when he called Yeosang at home late one night to ask about something in a report, and Yeosang was naive enough to think that Seonghwa, one, didn’t know what someone sounded like when having sex, and two, couldn’t recognize Wooyoung’s breathing in the background. 

“I’d say so.” 

And when Hongjoong sighed roughly, Seonghwa looked over and found him with his arms crossed tight over his chest, eyebrow raised. “Oh, so,  _ they’re  _ allowed to sleep with other agents and it’s fine?”

Seonghwa didn’t quite catch his meaning at first, but then his expression sobered. “Are you still hung up on that? It’s different,” he said firmly. “First of all, they aren’t field agents. Their work ends when they go home. Second of all… they aren’t just sleeping together. Regardless of what they say, the two of them are more than friends with benefits. That means it’s different.” 

Hongjoong stared at him, eyes slightly stony, lips pressing together like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. 

Seonghwa stood, sighing and shaking his head. “I’m going to take a shower before they get here,” he muttered, heading towards the bathroom. He should have told Yeosang to bring a change of clothes for-

“And if we weren’t?” 

Seonghwa paused, just outside the bathroom, wanting to just ignore Hongjoong, just go on his way, don’t give into him- 

But he turned slowly, finding Hongjoong sitting up fully, fingers curled into loose fists against the blankets and his eyes hard, defiant, challenging. As if Seonghwa had presented him with a problem and demanded he solve it. 

“If we weren’t what?” he asked. 

Hongjoong didn’t move. “If we weren’t field agents,” he said clearly, as if daring Seonghwa to misunderstand. “What would that change?” 

God, did Hongjoong never  _ stop _ ? Seonghwa’s jaw tightened and shifted one leg slightly. “It would change nothing,” he said darkly, “because we  _ are  _ field agents. And that isn’t going to stop.” 

“But if we weren’t-” 

“Has it never occured to you?” Seonghwa cut in sharply. “That maybe-  _ just maybe-  _ eight years of constant, violent rejections to your advances, might be a hint that I am  _ not interested _ , Hongjoong?” he demanded. “Is there even a part of your brain that allows you to think that someone doesn’t want to sleep with you?” 

Hongjoong’s jaw flexed, and Seonghwa could see something like anger burning in his eyes, but not quite. “That first night we met-” 

“The first night we met, I was looking for a quick fuck,” Seonghwa snapped. “I didn’t think that actually considering sleeping with  _ one person  _ for my own pleasure would sign me up for a lifetime obligation to constantly have to reject them from viewing me as their own personal  _ toy. _ ” 

Hongjoong’s expression froze. Seonghwa turned away, stepped into the bathroom, and slammed the door, locking it. 

He turned on the water (a weak little stream) and tore off his shirt. 

He could not believe that part of him had maybe, almost, started to believe that Hongjoong had grown out of, set aside, moved away from-  _ whatever- _ he couldn’t believe he was stupid enough to think that just because he showed a side that was competent, a side that wasn’t a jackass, a side that was almost friendly- 

Seonghwa had forgotten what was the motivation behind each of their interactions. 

He stepped under the weak, tepid water, and picked up the shitty little shampoo bottle provided, scrubbing at his hair that hadn’t been washed in days. 

That first night, Seonghwa had seen someone who actually seemed like they gave a fuck if he got anything out of sleeping together. And then that person was an asshole- cocky and sultry and gorgeous- and Seonghwa just couldn’t stand him. 

His annoyance at the initial deception was nothing compared to what built inside his veins each time they met afterwards- Hongjoong continually, constantly, endlessly bringing up that night, bringing up what a nice time they could have together, how interested he still was whenever Seonghwa gave the word- 

And maybe Seonghwa was interested on some physical level because Hongjoong was  _ gorgeous  _ and sensual and  he was effective in his job, but that’s all it was. 

A job. A game. 

A challenge that Hongjoong took upon himself to try and get Seonghwa to crack and break and give in. And any part of Seonghwa that may have once considered it was shut down completely by his anger at the others filipancy, apathy, and utter disregard for anything but his own interests. 

And now… now Seonghwa was just tired of it. Tired of the mindless chasing. 

He shut off the water, and pushed back the shower curtain, seeing a puddle of water on the floor where it had leaked from a crack in the tub. He stepped out carefully, sighing as he looked for a towel and found none. 

Spectacular. 

He shook off as much water as he could, slipping on his underwear and grabbing his pants from the counter, pulling them forward in frustration. 

Which took his shirt that was laying on top of them right along with it. 

And deposited it directly onto the water-covered tile floor. 

Pants in hand and now-soaked shirt sitting at his feet, Seonghwa was ready to scream. And it was only years of training and the fact that he didn’t want anyone calling the cops that kept it behind his throat. Seonghwa sighed, taking a calming breath and slipping his pants on. 

He was just going to take a shirt from Hongjoong’s bag, then. But the last thing he wanted to do right now was walking in front of Hongjoong shirtless. 

But he huffed, scrubbing at his soaked hair. No. Fuck Hongjoong. Seonghwa was not going to cater to him just because he couldn’t keep it in his goddamn pants. If Hongjoong wanted to stare at him shirtless and use it as material to get off to, that was his prerogative. Seonghwa didn’t give a fuck anymore. 

Kicking his wet shirt into the corner, he opened the door, pointedly ignoring Hongjoong laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’m stealing a shirt,” he said briskly, walking to the duffel bag and trying to find one that wasn’t miniscule. 

His best bet was an oversized hoodie that had been stuffed in (not really emergency bag type clothing, but whatever). He slipped it on, turning back around, and finding Hongjoong still staring at the ceiling, not having moved. 

Seonghwa stared at him, a familiar prickle of annoyance, but Hongjoong ignored him. 

“What-” 

A gentle knock at the door. 

Seonghwa turned, seeing Hongjoong sit up out of the corner of his eye, and he wet his lips. He grabbed the gun sitting next to the Go Bag and held it loosely. It was probably Yeosang, but better not to take any chances. 

Peering through the peephole, he saw two familiar shapes waiting outside. He sighed a brief release of tension, opening the door and ushering them in. Yeosang and Wooyoung hurried passed him, glancing at Hongjoong, but no sooner than the door was closed was Yeosang hugging him tightly, Seonghwa shifting his arm so that gun was  _ not  _ pressed between them. 

“Hyung, you scared the shit out of me!” Yeosang snapped, pulling away and hitting his shoulder roughly. “What the hell is going on? You’ve never been this off the radar- even Eden didn’t know anything-“

Seonghwa caught Yeosang’s second attempt to hit him, smiling gently, a knot loosening in his chest. Finally. Allies. “You can pull me through the ringer after I stop being hunted, alright? For now, I need your help.” 

Yeosang’s frown turned more serious, withdrawing his hand. “Hyung, what  _ happened _ ?” He demanded. 

“You’re officially off the radar,” Wooyoung said, providing the best news he heard all week. 

“Let’s swap notes,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the bed that Hongjoong was sitting up on. Wooyoung and Yeosang met his eyes and Hongjoong’s jaw flexed a little. The three stared for a moment, as if waiting for someone to make the first move. 

Hongjoong stood. “I’ll be right back.” He started walking to the door, brushing passed Wooyoung. 

Seonghwa turned quickly. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” 

“You’re not going out wandering,” he said sternly. “Are you insane?” 

Hongjoong spared him only a glance, fire and ice dancing inside dark eyes that stared at Seonghwa with an emotion he had never seen from Hongjoong: hate. His eyes trailed over Seonghwa’s form once before a disgusted scoff fell passed his lips. “No,” he said, not meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. “Just a fucking idiot, apparently.” 

The door slammed shut. 

Seonghwa stared. 

What the hell was that? Was this supposed to be revenge for finally getting it through Hongjoong’s head that he wasn’t interested? Was this what Hongjoong was when something had lost interest for him? 

“Seonghwa-hyung,” Wooyoung murmured, staring at the door with eyes widen with shock. “What the hell happened between you two?” 

Seonghwa didn’t know. He was getting fucking whiplash from Hongjoong’s mood swings from flirty to serious to angry to open to icy to- 

“I don’t really care what’s getting to him,” Seonghwa said, turning and marching to the bed, grabbing the laptop. “If he wants to storm off after I shut him down, that’s his business. I could not care less.” 

“Hyung,” Yeosang said gently, “you’re both on the run, you can’t just let him go wandering-” 

“He’s a very capable agent, he’s assured me,” Seonghwa spat, typing in the passcode. “Now, I need you guys to help me figure out what the fuck is going on.” 

Yeosang and Wooyoung exchanged glances, but walked over, sitting on the bed as well. 

Seonghwa filled them in (leaving Hongjoong’s name out of almost every part, save for what he couldn’t help). 

“You’ve been on an adventure,” Wooyoung noted, taking the laptop and clicking rapidly on things. “Getting into the KQ database shouldn’t be hard at all.” 

“What’s been going on?” he asked Yeosang, eyes hard. “The last I had contact was Eden saying they were having trouble getting people to respond.” 

Yeosang sighed, playing with the fabric of the blankets. “I couldn’t tell you the how or why,” he said regretfully. “All we know is from gossip or vague emails from Eden, but… It seems like you’ve been erased from KQ… sort of.” 

“Erased?” Seonghwa repeated darkly. 

He nodded half-heartedly, twisting his fingers together. “No one ever went to check out the area you were shot at in. Hongjoong’s apartment getting shot up? No one went to that one either. Eden’s been sending out daily emails and phone calls, trying to get together a team to assist his agent, and he either gets nothing in reply, or a message from some secretary saying they’ll process the report as quickly as possible.” Yeosang wet his lips. “I messaged some people from Hongjoong’s branch… Yunho has an acquaintance, Mingi, who he sort of knows.” 

“Mingi says they suddenly started having the same problem,” Wooyoung said, eyes flickering around the screen. “Word came through that their head agent’s apartment had been  _ violently  _ compromised while assisting another agent…” He shrugged. “ _ Nothing _ . Barely more than a small police force checking out the area. One of the men on his team- San- has been trying to hold things together and force an answer out of his superiors, but everyone is suddenly occupied with life or death situations that none of us knew anything about.” 

Seonghwa stared at the blankets. So they really were just going to let him die. They weren’t even being subtle about it- the entirety of KQ knew about it. Were they no longer even concerned with secrecy? Would they not even give him the honor of treating this like a serious issue? No? Just keep throwing bullets at him until something stuck? 

“We checked out the safe house security system remotely, too,” Wooyoung told him, frowning at something on the computer. “All the alarms- disabled. All the defenses- muted. There was a new attachment to the alarm system, but it wasn’t connected to the alarms- it was a entry-warning plate that was sending its signal somewhere else. Wherever it's going is protected, but it’s really not that hard to guess. If you had tried to go there… they would have found you and you would have never heard them coming.” 

So they had been right to find somewhere else. He was relieved at that, at least. 

“I don’t get it,” Yeosang burst, practically glaring, gentle features twisting. “Why would they go after you? I know you mentioned being paid off, but what does KQ need with money? What would they need it for so badly as to give up one of their best agents? The consequences don’t match up with the odds.” 

“ _ Two  _ of their best agents,” Wooyoung added. “It doesn’t seem like they give a shit if Hongjoong gets caught in the crossfire.” 

Seonghwa scoffed softly. “That makes two of us,” he muttered, earning a frown from Yeosang even as Wooyoung burst out- “Got it!” 

He turned the screen to Seonghwa proudly. “KQ database.” 

It was surprisingly plain seeming. Or at least, easy to navigate. Just a white screen with black text, running in columns. 

History. Report Records. Email. Personel. Pay Period. Agent Records. Incarcerations. It went on. 

Seonghwa set his jaw, clicking on EMAIL and waiting only a moment before he was presented with another simply screen of hundreds of names in small print. “Who are we looking for?” Yeosang asked, leaning to see. “Eden?” 

Seonghwa scrolled through the alphabetized list, pausing at the G’s. “Gong,” he said, mouth hovering over GONG YUHAE and clicking on it. Gong was not the head of the organization, but he pretty much was Eden’s direct superior. Seonghwa had never spoken to the man in his life, but… “He’s the one who set for me to suddenly be a part of the rally security. He’s currently our best bet at a suspect.” 

And truthfully… Gong was only directly above Eden. There were still councils and boards and superintendents above him. Any money he gained from putting out a hit on an agent? Would most likely go straight into his pocket. 

A long list of emails- marked with date, recipients, subject line- spread before him, and Seonghwa scanned the most recent ones. 

FROM: gyuhae RECEIVED: kjaehyun 

NO SUBJECT

Seonghwa clicked. 

 

_ Mr. Kim,  _

_ The results of your activities have not been fruitful. Understand that my cordial allowance for you and your partners to have fun with this assignment did not include reckless abandonment of all sense. Your partner’s untimely death is most certainly something I take no responsibility nor regret in. You have now lost manpower at the hands of two agents with nothing but a gun to their name.  _

_ I am neither impressed with nor tolerant of such behavior.  _

_ It has already been days too long with dragging this out. I want Agent Park eliminated within the next 48 hours or your payment will be nullified and our contract terminated.  Enough games, and I expect word from you within the hour to confirm your understanding.  _

_ Director Gong _

 

Wooyoung let out a sharp breath. “I don’t… I can’t believe it. Director Gong is actually-” 

There was no email from Kim Jaehyun in return. Seonghwa wondered what happened to him. 

“This proves it, then,” Yeosang said firmly, pointing. “Director Gong is actively hiring someone to kill you.” 

Seonghwa was already moving down the list. Most subject lines were filled with report numbers or statements of request, but he was searching for something specific. 

He stopped at the day of the rally. Nothing but a few ones labeled with report numbers as people beneath him sent in their findings. 

He went back a little further. A week before the political speech. 

“There,” Yeosang said, pointing to one near the bottom of the screen, again with a blaring NO SUBJECT staring at them. 

This one was not from a Mr. Kim Jaehyun. 

FROM: unknown address RECEIVED: gyuhae

 

_ Director Gong,  _

_ I will be brief for it will take only a few words for you to understand if you are interested or not.  _

_ There is an agent employed at your company who I would very much like to lose the displeasure of encountering. My grudge is not personal, but through a business partner whose daughter had a very heartbreaking night with one Agent Park Seonghwa.  _

_ Now, understand that I have no issue with how your agents choose to run their wares, but this business partner is very crucial that I do not lose, and his request of me is to take care of this nuisance. Truthfully, I think his bitch of a daughter deserved it, but I cannot lose business, you must understand.  _

_ Our price may be discussed in a more direct matter, but I have laid my request before you. Should you wish to take up my offer, I will be waiting at a bus stop on 3rd St. at 7 should you wish to contact me. I have no specifications of how you should choose to end this man, but if you do agree, I will need some form of proof, so I would ask he not be destroyed beyond recognition.  _

_ Thank you for your help.  _

 

It was unsigned. 

Seonghwa pushed the computer to Wooyoung. “Back up these emails- any of them from these two men- and make sure we can’t lose them.” 

He nodded, hunching over slightly and typing away. 

“That’s creepy as shit,” Yeosang muttered, shaking out his head. “It’s not even this guy who wants you dead.” 

Wooyoung glanced up. “Do you remember which daughter they’re talking about?” 

Seonghwa sighed, rubbing at his eyes. Targets blended together. But a heartbroken girl, a bitch- 

Seonghwa touched his arm, where claw marks had scarred for weeks after one night. “I might,” he muttered. “If it’s who I’m thinking of, her father would be a member of Noir. I got her to spill information on where her father was heading, and when I tried to leave afterwards…. Well, she wasn’t happy that I wasn’t ready to settle down quite yet. She had one hell of a grip.” He rubbed the arm in memory. 

“Noir’s got hundreds of informants and business partners,” Yeosang said, eyes clouded. “How do we trace this back to them?” 

“I don’t think we need to,” Seonghwa muttered, rubbing at his face. “It says here, he doesn’t give a shit about us. Maybe he’s far enough under the radar we don’t touch him, maybe he’s just a middle man not in danger of getting caught. It shouldn’t matter who wants me dead, as long as we take out Gong and that girl’s father.” He frowned, tapping his forehead with his palm. “What the hell was her name… Not Kim, not Lee… Son? Jae? No-” He snapped his fingers, head shooting up. “Nam! Nam Hyorin!” 

Yeosang whipped his phone out, typing the name down. “We can start trying to look into her father on the downlow,” he said. “Should we tell Eden-” 

“No,” Seonghwa said firmly. “Don’t do any of this while you’re at the company if you can help it. I don’t want to risk Eden being bugged or anything being traced back to you guys.” 

They both looked hesitant, but nodded. “Okay,” Yeosang finally said. “We’ll- Oh, the phone!” he stood up quickly. “We brought some stuff for you, let me go grab it from the car.” 

“Be careful,” Wooyoung said, looking up sharply before Seonghwa could issue the same warning. “And if you see Hongjoong, make sure he’s still alive.” 

Seonghwa didn’t think that last part was necessary, but Yeosang nodded, slipping out of the room. 

He and Wooyoung were left in silence.

How could he have even been afraid that these two would betray him? 

Seonghwa frowned. “How’d you guys know which room we were in?” 

Wooyoung shrugged, leaning back and bracing his hands behind him. “Farthest room, in a corner, good visibility, it wasn’t hard to guess.” His brow furrowed darkly. “So what the hell happened between you and Hongjoong?” 

Seonghwa groaned, rolling his eyes. “What  _ didn’t  _ happen between us?” he muttered. He didn’t want to talk about it, but Wooyoung and Yeosang were certainly the best to unload on. 

Wooyoung lifted a shocked eyebrow. 

“Not like that!” Seonghwa snapped, sighing heavily. “This whole thing has been a shit storm start to finish, and he is not fucking helping.” 

“He’s still giving you a hard time?” Wooyoung questioned, surprised. 

“At first, he was normal,” Seonghwa assured him. “And then… I don’t know, he starts acting like… nice and shit? And I was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t  _ completely  _ shitty, but then he just keeps coming back to sleeping with me, and trying to get a cheap fuck,  and it’s getting fucking annoying with everything else I have to deal with.” 

“You fought before we got here?” Wooyoung asked. “Hongjoong looked fucking pissed when he left.” 

That amount of anger was new to Seonghwa, too. And he honestly didn’t know if Hongjoong was that upset at finally being completely rejected or what, but he honestly didn’t really care. His boss wanted him dead and that was his main concern. 

“I think I finally got it through his head that I didn’t want to have sex with him, and now his pride is hurt.” 

Wooyoung glanced at the door, hesitant. “Are you sure that’s what it is? That did not seem like a bruised pride expression. What did he mean about being an idiot?” 

“Probably felt bad for chasing after me for so long, thinking I’d give in one day.” 

“Hyung…” Wooyoung’s expression was concerned. “I think maybe the two of you need to talk something out. He’s currently your only backup here- Yeosang and I can’t watch your back out here. If you two are getting pissy with each other, that’s both of your lives on the line.” 

“There’s nothing to talk out,” Seonghwa said firmly, leaning back against the headboard. “Hongjoong keeps being an asshole, and I’m going to keep shutting him down until he stops.” 

(The sensation of fingers running gently through his hair-)

“Can’t you just put up with it a little longer without losing your shit?” Wooyoung begged. “Stop confronting every statement he makes, and just survive this. I swear, hyung, if you wind up dead because of both of your pretty bickerings, I’m going to kill you.” 

“I don’t need him-” 

“So you’re telling me you would have absolutely survived all this time without Hongjoong?” Wooyoung demanded, eyes narrowed. “That you don’t need his help?” 

And Seonghwa was about to give  resounding yes, but… 

The apartment. The woman. Running with someone at his back. Holding Seonghwa’s arm as he tried not to slip into a panic. Forgetting for so many moments that he didn’t trust Hongjoong, forgetting he was angry. 

The vaguest sensation of gentle hands-  not rough and needy but soft and comforting- in his hair. 

The words stuck in his throat. And Seonghwa felt his gut twist. 

Wooyoung hummed, turning back to the computer. “That’s what I thought. Just admit that you need to rely on him for now. As long as he can watch your back, I don’t give a shit if he is an asshole. When you were stepping on each other’s toes post-mission, it was cute. Now, you need to set aside whatever part of your pride is pissing you off, and just  _ survive  _ this shitstorm.” He shook his head. “Have you ever considered that maybe he’s not  _ that  _ bad and you’re just pissy about him?” 

Seonghwa had. He had been on the path of actually believing Hongjoong and maybe even tolerating him, but then everything just got thrown back in his face, and it was really hard to tolerate when Hongjoong seemed to make it a mission to get under his skin. 

Except those moments when they were just talking. Or when they weren’t fighting. Or when things got serious and Hongjoong actually looked like an agent. Or when he made valid contributions. Or when fingers dragged through his hair- 

He sighed, rubbing at his face. Was Hongjoong that good of an actor, pretending to give a shit in hopes Seonghwa caved?  Or was Seonghwa just nitpicking any excuse he could find to shove Hongjoong back into the box he had formed around him, that outlined what Hongjoong was, what he could be, and what he could never be. 

Hongjoong was an asshole. 

He was irresponsible and annoying. 

He could never be a real agent. Never be genuine . Never be without ulterior motives. 

And each time Hongjoong started pushing against the sides of the box, Seonghwa observed for a moment before ultimately shoving him back in, refusing to allow him to break out. 

And now that he thought of it… it sounded really fucking shitty. Worse than constantly trying to sleep with someone, certainly. 

At least Hongjoong had never tried to claim a moral superiority over him and done nothing to support it. 

The door to the room opened, and they both turned, Yeosang entering with a little plastic bag. “We didn’t have time to grab much,” he said, handing it over. “But there’s some clothes, and a couple burner phones. Also some extra cash in case you needed it.” 

Seonghwa took it, nodding gratefully, the back of his mind still occupied.

“Did you see Hongjoong?” Wooyoung asked, giving a pointed glance at Seonghwa. 

Yeosang’s lips quirked. “I saw him from a distance. He was sitting on a bench around the backside of the hotel. He was out of sight of most everything. He was still alive, at least.” 

He was just sitting out there? Seonghwa didn’t even think he had his gun. 

“I’ve quarantined off this section of the database,” Wooyoung said, finally closing the laptop. “You can access it still without setting off any flags.” 

Seonghwa thanked him, voice a little dull. “We’re going to work on finding Nam and her father,” Yeosang assured him. “We’ll contact you minimally, but we’ll let you know as soon as we find something.” 

Seonghwa glanced between them, offering a tired smile. “Thanks. You guys are great.” 

He was hesitant to see them go, but the sooner they were gone, the safer everyone would be. 

Yeosang smiled, patting Seonghwa’s shoulder gently. “It’ll work out, hyung. We’ll get you through this. Hongjoong, too.” 

_ Hongjoong, too.  _ He hummed. “You guys should probably go,” he said, glancing at the darkened sky outside. “We may have to move from here, so don’t try and come back unless I contact you, alright?” 

They both nodded, Wooyoung getting off the bed as Yeosang gave Seonghwa a firm hug. “Be careful, hyung, alright?” 

“I always am,” he assured him. 

Yeosang snorted. “No, you’re not,” he said in amusement. “But hopefully Hongjoong and yours idiocy will cancel out and you’ll make it out of here.” 

“We’ll see you later, hyung,” Wooyoung said. “Think about what I said, alright?” 

Seonghwa only smiled weakly as the two of them walked to the door, offering one last wave. It felt weird, having them leave after something so massive, but they exited the hotel room, and Seonghwa was left alone in silence. It felt like everything was suddenly happening too fast. 

Chaos and then nothing. 

Did he go out and search for Hongjoong? Tell him to get back inside? 

That’s what a good partner would do right? He had to laugh. Were they even partners? Or were they just two people handcuffed together and trying to operate around each other? 

Seonghwa shook his head. Hongjoong was a big boy. He could take care of himself. Seonghwa grabbed the laptop, opening it back up. He might as well go through the database while he was alone. 

He was faced with the same first screen they had seen before. 

History. Criminal records. It went on.  

His eyes trailed down the list, ending at bold font: AGENT  RECORDS. He clicked, presented with hundreds of name that he didn’t recognize. He scrolled down, passing by Jung Yunho and Wooyoung, right by each other, Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong- 

Seonghwa paused, staring at the name, before moving on until he found his own, clicking on it and waiting only a moment before another list popped up. 

DATA PAGE. BACKGROUND RECORDS. HEALTH AND CHECK UP. AGENT HISTORY. 

He clicked on the first, and the screen flickered and brought up a scanned copy of his personel data page that was- 

Blacked out. He leaned forward, but there was no way to see through the blocking. Everything from his name and down the list was blotted out. As if he were no longer an active agent. As if he were already dead. 

He clicked on BACKGROUND RECORDS. Nothing. The same with the other sections. As if he had already been deleted from the agency. 

He backed out, clicking on a random name above his- Park Heejun- and found the page visible and presenting all information known on this man. 

He scrolled up, clicking on Yeosang’s name. All this information was there, down to the doctor visit he had after the flu epidemic. 

He backed out. His eyes trailed over Hongjoong’s name. Was he blacked out too? He clicked, feeling oddly as if he were doing something underhanded. Something bad, and not trying to see if they had already labeled Hongjoong as a dead man as well. 

He shook off the absurd feeling. 

He clicked on his data page, and was presented with a list of factoids of Hongjoong. Height, weight, blood type, years with the company, performance reports (all glowing). 

So Hongjoong was not yet erased. Not yet a dead man. 

He checked the HISTORY page, ensuring that they weren’t working their way through slowly, but he was given a list of dates of things that the company made note of. He went to click off, but a section just at the bottom of the page caught his eye. 

He scrolled to see if fully. 

_ DEC 1 - Agency requested therapist mental health evaluation.  _

_ DEC 3 - Cleared for active duty by medical and mental health authorities.  _

_ DEC 21 - No residual effects noted by follow up evaluation. Agent Kim is declared fit for duty.  _

Seonghwa frowned, checking the full date. It was a long time ago- before Hongjoong and he had met, but only by months, if Seonghwa remembered correctly. Maybe as far as a year. 

Fit for duty? That was language for an agent facing a mental breakdown, not just getting shot and going through therapy. 

Almost without thinking, Seonghwa clicked back, mouse hovering over HEALTH AND CHECK UP. 

Okay.  _ Now _ , this was underhanded. Seonghwa clicked on the page, checking the door, his stomach twisting. He scrolled passed the medical notes and went a little too far, faced with a group of links. 

MENTAL HEALTH EVAL RECORDS 

Seonghwa swallowed. What happened to Hongjoong? Mental health evals were common- and mandatory twice a year- but the language used made it seem like Hongjoong had gone off some sort of deep end and needed to be ensured he didn’t crack again. 

He stared at the link. 

Would this finally provide some insight into Kim fucking Hongjoong? 

Could Seonghwa finally have some sort of ammo to return fire w-

Seonghwa slammed the laptop shut, tossing it away and running his hands through his hair roughly. What the hell was wrong with him? Was his honestly petty enough- _low_ _enough-_ to sift through Hongjoong’s personal, confidential mental health records? 

Seonghwa felt a hot coal settle in his stomach as he pushed the laptop onto Hongjoong’s side of the bed, laying down and burying his face in his pillow. 

He breathed heavily, tugging at his own hair roughly. Stop it,  _ stop it,  _ you absolute ass. 

He didn’t like it. Didn’t like the person he had been becoming lately… 

And he honestly couldn’t keep blaming it on Hongjoong. 

Couldn’t been blame any of it on Hongjoong. What was he- a child? Pointing fingers and whining “But he  _ made _ me?” 

The room was dark as the hour ticked by, and Seonghwa didn’t move, burying his anger and shame in cotton and cloth. 

Was this really where he ended up? Pushing and pushing Hongjoong away and declaring himself superior as he complained and pointed- anything to take blame off himself? Was this an agent of ten years? Was this his father that he swore he’d never become? 

He thought he was a good person. 

The door opened, and Seonghwa’s head snapped up, a small light outside in the courtyard providing enough backlight to tell it was Hongjoong entering. He could only see his outline in the darkness, and Hongjoong froze in the doorway. 

“Just me,” he said, voice dull. He sounded tired. Worn out. “Go back to sleep.” He closed the door, sending the room back into darkness. Seonghwa heard him move around to the other side of the room. Heard clothes fall to the ground and others be pulled on. He heard Hongjoong pat along the bed, putting the laptop and a few clothes onto the floor as he sat down, the rustle of hands in hair sounding. 

Hongjoong laid down on the edge of his side of the bed, and Seonghwa swallowed at the silence. Apparently, the anger had faded. 

He didn’t like this exhaustion either. 

The silence was heavy and suffocating, and something built in his stomach, climbing up his throat until it was choking him. Maybe Hongjoong was already asleep. But Seonghwa’s fingers curled into the borrowed sweatshirt. 

He felt like everything was tilting. 

“We got into the database,” he murmured into the darkness. An olive branch, maybe? Was Seonghwa even in a position to offer something like that? 

Hongjoong was silent. Seonghwa’s regular annoyance and anger was absent. He only felt a chill in his chest. 

He swallowed. “I checked my file. They’ve already erased me.” 

No response. Not even a shift. But he wasn’t asleep. Seonghwa could tell by his breathing. 

“I found your mental health evals.” 

_ Stupid _ . 

It fell heavy from his lips- tinged a dark regret as Seonghwa wanted to hit himself. 

He heard Hongjoong’s breath stutter for a moment, his body stiffening. Seonghwa waited. Moments passed. Hongjoong swallowed audibly. “Did you read them?” Scared. Winding up to release a coil of pent up energy. 

“No,” Seonghwa whispered, staring into impenetrable darkness around them. “I thought about it. And then I hated myself for it.” 

A short silence. And then a dry, bitter chuckle from Hongjoong. But when he spoke, his tone was wet and weak. “ _ Noble pride _ ,” he muttered, voice thick and almost on the edge of breaking. 

Seonghwa turned, but couldn’t see him in the dark. It almost sounded like he was near tears, but there was no way. 

He wanted to get up and move around, to put distance because one again, this was too close, to much- but Seonghwa shoved the thoughts back and stayed put. 

He was too tired to try and run. And Hongjoong… Hongjoong deserved, at the very least, to see Seonghwa squirm for even thinking of tearing apart that last shred of privacy. 

“You lied,” Hongjoong whispered, voice still a little thick but stronger. 

“I really didn’t look,” Seonghwa said quickly, half-sitting up. 

“Not about that,” Hongjoong sighed, pushing Seonghwa back down. “You lied before. When you said your issue with me wasn’t how I worked.” 

“It’s not,” Seonghwa replied, more on instinct than trying to decipher why he thought that. 

“Could have fooled me,” Hongjoong muttered, tone tinged with bitterness. He shifted in the darkness. “Because as far as I’ve seen, there’s not much more I could do to show you I give a shit, and you still only have something to say about trying to sleep with you.” 

Watching his back, breakfast, pajamas, orange juice, guns, begging him to sleep, following without question despite Seonghwa’s anger and spat out words-  

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. 

Perhaps noble pride was a good term. Seonghwa rode his high horse, thinking himself such a good agent, so much better than Hongjoong… 

Why? Because Hongjoong only slept around. Hongjoong didn’t actually fight. 

And he refused to step down, refused to consider that maybe Hongjoong did know what he was doing, that he might be Seonghwa’s equal or better- but he had refused to see… why? Because he was annoyed, because he was angry, because  _ what _ ?

Because he was upset that Hongjoong couldn’t take a  _ hint _ when… 

Was Hongjoong ever even serious? Or was this just their banter- trying to sleep with him? Was it just Hongjoong’s way of giving interaction and gaining reactions? Was it not meant to poke and prod at issues he couldn’t know Seonghwa had? Was it meant to just be… playful? 

“I…” Seonghwa wet his lips, lungs burning. 

Was his problem that Hongjoong slept around? No. Was it even that Hongjoong kept trying to sleep with him? No. 

Then  _ what _ ? 

“I don’t know,” he muttered, frustrated. “I don’t know what my fucking issue is with you. You didn’t care before- and maybe that’s still true. All I know is that… everytime I feel like I can trust you, you do something… you say something… And it discounts everything.” 

“Say things about sleeping with you,” Hongjoong clarified. 

Seonghwa rolled his lips. “Maybe,” he confessed. Nothing made  _ sense _ anymore.  “I’m not used to people like you.” 

Hongjoong shifted then, facing Seonghwa, voice darker. “What people like me?” he demanded. 

“People  _ not like me _ .” Seonghwa shifted away. “Our personalities just clash. I don’t know how to  _ deal  _ with you. Maybe you’re joking, maybe you’re acting, maybe you’re serious- I can’t  _ fucking  _ tell, Hongjoong. I never know which part of you is real and which is just trying to be an asshole, and so I just… shove everything away because I can’t deal with trying to figure that out right now while we’re both on the run for our lives.” 

“You think I’m acting?”

“What  _ else _ can I assume?” Seonghwa sighed. “How do I reconcile the person constantly throwing innuendo at me with those eyes that seem like they’ve seen so much as an agent? The weird looks you keep giving me, the gestures that almost seem like you’re trying to reach out but then you snap back into old habits. What else can I  _ do _ , Hongjoong?” 

He was confused. Because Hongjoong wasn’t laughing now. He was serious. And not a innuendo in sight. As if Seonghwa were finally digging into the root of everything. 

Silence. So long, Seonghwa thought Hongjoong had gone back to ignoring him. 

And then he spoke, quiet, like he might shatter something if he spoke louder. “Answer me one question.” 

Seonghwa frowned, shifting to face back towards Hongjoong, eyes a little more adjusted to the darkness, able to make out- just barely- his face staring at Seonghwa’s. “What?” he asked carefully, voice soft but loud in the darkness. 

“If we hadn’t me the way we did…” A long pause. Seonghwa, for once, didn’t jump at the chance to scold him for bringing it up. “If we hadn’t met the way we did… if we… I don’t know. If we weren’t agents, if I hadn’t tried to sleep with you… If we had just been two people in that bar… Would you have changed your mind?” 

Seonghwa already knew the answer to that: Yes. In a heartbeat, he would have gladly gone home with Hongjoong.  But they were agents, and the secrecy, and the cocky smiles, and his flippancy, and his everything that Seonghwa had never been faced with before and didn’t know how to deal with… 

But now Seonghwa was too messed up and too affected by his job and he couldn’t give in now, even if things were different. Even if he were different. 

“Why does it matter to you so much?” Seonghwa whispered, wetting his lips. “Why do you want it so badly? Am I some sort of challenge you’ve given yourself?” He couldn’t even be flattered at the thought that Hongjoong might have found him that attractive. 

“You didn’t answer the question.” Pushing. 

“Will you answer mine?” Pulling. 

“Answer the question, Seonghwa.” Hard. Gentle. Tired. 

He pressed his lips together. “Yes, I would.” 

“So why-“ Hongjoong sighed. “I don’t understand- is it because we’re agents? You just admitted you found me- at one point- attractive. But when you were yelling, you said nothing of agents. Just that you weren’t interested. So what’s the real issue?” 

“Is it that big a deal?” Seonghwa demanded, lacking heat. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. The first night, I was interested. You ruined that by being an asshole.”

“So there’s never been a point where I wasn’t an asshole? Never a point where you reconsidered?” 

“Not a point that I would ever allow myself to.”

“So you are currently not attracted to me? And I mean physically. Imagine I lost my voice and personality and shit. Just my body. Would you do it?”

Seonghwa finally sat up, staring down at Hongjoong with a worried frown. That sounded… not okay. “Hongjoong-“ 

The man in question sat up too, both of them staring in the dark. “ _ Would you _ ? Is there even a chance of you doing it?” 

“ _ Listen _ .” Seonghwa was surprised by the sincerity in his own voice, but part of him felt genuine pity. 

Was this truly what Hongjoong thought? Or was it just the… everything of the day rushing forward? 

“I don’t know why you’re convinced that you…  _ need _ to sleep with me. I don’t know or understand anything about you. But you need to… I don’t know- let it go.” 

And it occurred to Seonghwa, suddenly,  that perhaps it  _ was _ all an act. Perhaps Hongjoong wasn’t fulfilling a challenge- but a need. A need to assure himself that he was useful. 

Desirable. Useful without a gun. Prove that he could convince Seonghwa to sleep with him, that he was that good of an agent who had people falling at his feet-

That he was still useful. 

It made Seonghwa’s stomach churn. 

This was not Hongjoong. 

“Hongjoong, I don’t know what you think you would get out of sleeping with me but- Just- Listen, you don’t need to think that there’s something wrong with you just because my personality clashes with yours. You don’t- Even if I did sleep with someone outside of a mission, it would feel… wrong… if I tried to make them anything but themselves. How fucked up would I be to sit here and accept you offering yourself to me like you were a fucking  _ object _ , Hongjoong?” ”

Silence stretched. He heard Hongjoong swallow. 

“I’m  _ tired  _ of manipulating people. If I slept with someone- even kissing them- it would have to different than missions. I don’t want to cross that line. I don’t want to manipulate and twist them. I want to keep it separate. If I were ever with someone for fun… I don’t want it to be work. I don’t want it to be a mission. And so you thinking that I would… try and change you in an intimate situation… is wrong.” 

Seonghwa didn’t want Hongjoong to… what- think something was wrong with himself? Seonghwa was hesitant to say something was wrong with him. Not at a base level. 

Not to the point of being willing to lay there like a doll before Seonghwa just in an attempt to tempt him. 

Seonghwa… was so confused. About Hongjoong but even more with himself and everything swirling in his chest. 

Because Hongjoong was attractive. And maybe even his quirky personality could be too. But Seonghwa wasn’t used to him. He wasn’t accustomed to what Hongjoong thought and how he acted. 

But Hongjoong thinking that emptying himself would endear him to Seonghwa was wrong. 

And honestly, made Seonghwa sad. That Hongjoong would think to do that. That there was a sort of him so desperate he would try and do that. The Hongjoong he knew wouldn’t give a fuck. Would never dream of simply laying there, empty,  just for a cheap fuck. 

Seonghwa was tired of just “bodies.”  Nameless faces and insignificant fucks. If he was going to be with someone outside of a mission, he wanted meaning. He wanted more than what missions were. He wanted long lasting and more than one night stands. 

The Hongjoong he knew could not give him that,  

And being with someone outside of missions never worked out well. Too many secrets to hide. Too many skeletons in his closet to explain.

He supposed that would be a plus side of someone like Hongjoong: he would understand what Seonghwa was going through, the choices he made, why he needed to go have sex with a stranger every night….

Maybe it would be easier to be with someone already in this life.  

But there were too many complications with dating agents. Lives at risk, clashing schedules, the stress that would never be left behind… and god forbid you have a nasty break up. 

“You probably need someone outside of missions,” Seonghwa suggested gently. “A constant partner to be with. Someone who you like and will like you back. Someone who can support you. I think you need that.” 

Seonghwa wanted that too. 

A chilled hand suddenly grasped Seonghwa’s resting on the bed, Hongjoong’s  fingers cold and firm as he shifted forward suddenly. Seonghwa held his breath- terrified for a moment that Hongjoong was going to try and kiss him, seizing his moment in the dark. 

Seonghwa’s heart pounded, knowing he could shove Hongjoong away at any moment. 

He didn’t move. 

Another hand slowly touched his cheek gently- almost tenderly, though the word seemed overly formal- and the two of them were still as Seonghwa could hear short, rapid breaths from Hongjoong whose face was only a foot away. 

The thin fingers against his heated face traced his skin slightly- in feather light brushes. 

Seonghwa was completely still, limbs frozen in shock and almost fear. His lungs didn’t even shift. His hands were frozen by his sides. His eyes stared at the darkness, just able to make out Hongjoong’s face but unable to read his expression. 

Hongjoong swallowed. “You aren’t pulling away,” he noted in a soft whisper, one finger shifting against his cheek. 

No, he wasn’t. The violent reaction to shove Hongjoong away seemed to be silenced in the wake of their conversation. The realization that perhaps everything was not what Seonghwa thought.

The stunned, visceral slap to his stinging pride that perhaps he was wrong. 

The Hongjoong is his box would never touch him like this- hesitant and gentle, as if afraid Seonghwa would break. 

So Seonghwa wet his lips. “You haven’t done anything yet.” Because Hongjoong hasn’t. 

It certainly seemed the set up for a kiss, but Hongjoong had not crossed that line yet, and Seonghwa didn’t justify shoving him away at a single touch. 

A chance. Give him a chance. Open the box for him. Just let him breathe. 

Hongjoong hummed almost inaudibly. “No, I haven’t.” 

Silence. 

“Are you going to?” Seonghwa murmured because something he and Hongjoong had been notoriously bad at was communication. Seonghwa would give him that chance. 

A chance. Prove yourself. 

The thought from so long ago- the one that desired Hongjoong to mess up, to prove Seonghwa right- was gone. Seonghwa wanted proof that Hongjoong was more than that. 

If not for Seonghwa, then for Hongjoong himself. 

Hongjoong’s fingers fanned over his cheek, his thumb rubbing softly over the back of Seonghwa’s hand. “Do you want me to?” He whispered. 

No. 

Yes. 

Push. 

Pull. 

Was this his last move? A last ditch effort to win his prize and say he broke Seonghwa? 

Was this just Seonghwa continually thinking the worst of Hongjoong? What was the real side? What was Hongjoong’s reasoning, his purpose in all this? 

Don’t do it. Remember why you didn’t. 

Too many questions and no answers. 

Throw it all away. Give in. 

Don’t let go. Pull away. 

What was different? Nothing. Save for Hongjoong’s attitude and Seonghwa’s views. 

Will you spend eight years pushing and shoving just to give in at the first sign of intimacy?

This seemed intimate. Not fast and meaningless. Seonghwa couldn’t believe it. This was not Hongjoong. 

Too much. Too soon. 

Kiss him? 

Pull away. 

Because Hongjoong was promiscuous and flippant. 

Because Hongjoong was confident and vibrant. 

A million different attributes he could name- but what connotation he attached made all the difference. 

Flippant. Free spirited. 

Flirty. Attracted. 

Nonchalant. Confident. 

What did he do? What did he want? Was he tired and scared and maybe a little touch starved after years of only laying with strangers? Yes. 

He just wanted  _ more _ . 

Was this the only reason he was contemplating it?

He had never contemplated it before. 

He wanted meaning. Was this meaning? Was Hongjoong simply reading his desire for something more and trying to provide? Was he so cruel? 

If he erased his own inhibitions about Hongjoong, what was left?

Only that initial attraction he had felt the first night they met. Only breakfast and gentle hands in his hair as he slept and watching his six and wanting to hear about his childhood- 

Seonghwa swallowed. Hongjoong did not move. He sounded like he stopped breathing. Save for one, soft inhale. 

“Can I kiss you, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong whispered, words passing between them like secrets. “Just a kiss. Nothing else, I swear.” 

He wanted something meaningful. 

That didn’t sound like trying to fill an agenda. It sounded… hopeful. A more pure tone than Seonghwa had ever heard on Hongjoong-

His odd looks in his eyes, only gently words Seonghwa had never heard before, stray touches asking him to sleep,  to stay. 

Too much. Too soon. 

Just a kiss.  _ Nothing  _ compared to what Seonghwa had done with others. Kisses were meaningless to him- simply a forefront to what actually got results. They were as common as pennies and just as disposable. 

Why did Hongjoong not sound the same? 

Did he just give in? Did he give him an inch and trust Hongjoong not to take a mile? Did he trust Hongjoong to only keep it a kiss? Or did he suspect that he would try and take more?

Did he give in after eight ears? After so much anger and annoyance and shouting? Was this all it took to make him crumble? A soft touch? Hesitant words like a high schooler asking a crush to prom? 

Was he that weak? 

Did he suddenly trust Hongjoong after everything? 

Trust. 

He trusted him to watch his back. To get him out alive. 

Seonghwa could control this. If Hongjoong did take it farther…  Seonghwa was able to handle himself. Hongjoong would regret it if he tried to go farther. 

Or he could keep it simple and just pull away, as he always had, _ Why was was he even considering this- _

What  _ changed _ ? 

They were agents. 

If Hongjoong was acting, he was amazing. 

Hongjoong’s hand on his began to retract, slowly loosening as he prepared to withdraw. 

This did not seem like a ploy. 

This seemed too raw. Too real. As if Hongjoong was… something. Nervous. Desperate. But gentler. Genuine and real. 

A chance. 

“You can…” Seonghwa swallowed. The hand on his froze.  “One kiss,” he said, trying to be firm, but it came out softer. Like a whisper of breath caught in his lungs. 

Hongjoong’s hand against his cheek was shaking. 

Seonghwa frowned, taking a short breath as he felt the bed dip as Hongjoong leaned forward. 

The hand on his reaffirmed its grip but it was gentle. The hand against his cheek slid down, resting against his shoulder and trembling. 

What was Hongjoong planning?

Soft, hesitant lips brushed against his. 

This was not Hongjoong. There was so smirk, no giggle, no twisting tongue and scratching nails. No confident body dragging against his. No beating club music and grinding hips. 

Only darkness. Silence. The two of them alone. 

Only a gentle touch on his hand, a trembling hand against his shoulder, and soft lips against his. 

Seonghwa didn’t move. Hongjoong tilted his head, lips moving slowly, but not forcing his mouth open- not even suggesting that he open- and it didn’t even feel like a kiss. It was warm, not heated. Like a blanket thrown over someone fallen asleep on the sofa. 

Hongjoong was  _ warm _ . 

The hand on his cheek was soft and col, like he was holding something precious. 

Something special.

Something breakable. 

Had Seonghwa  _ ever _ kissed someone like this? Ever been kissed like this? Tongues behind their lips, and just soft touches between them?

No panting breaths, no desperate hands, no controlling fingers in his hair- not even a hard grip against his shoulder. 

This was not Hongjoong. 

No confidence. No smirk. No forcing his way forward. 

Just a warm, smooth movement against his, tasting like someone on their first kiss, something about it making Seonghwa’s heart pound violently. 

Just Hongjoong’s impossibly smooth lips, testing, pushing, pulling, but never demanding, only questioning. 

Is this okay? 

Is this right? 

Seonghwa shivered. It was warm. 

Hongjoong’s hand touched his neck, but the kiss was no deeper. His fingers threaded into Seonghwa’s hair at the base of his neck , ripping the memory of sleep to the surface-

Hongjoong’s nails scratched at his scalp softly, like it was just another way he wanted to touch- innocent and without hidden motive. It made Seonghwa shiver again, a little deeper, traveling down his spine. Hongjoong’s hand stopped, freezing in place and then dropping it back to Seonghwa’s shoulder. 

Is this okay? 

Is this the line? 

Where is the line? 

At the base feeling of it all, Seonghwa could feel the same pull from that first night. The one that knew that he could get his own pleasure out of this deal. The one that had waned to let himself be swept away by Hongjoong. 

But Hongjoong wasn’t sweeping him away now. He was holding him, steady and firm and grounding, even if he shook. 

His hand was cool but his lips were warm and gentle and moving against his firmly- like he knew what he wanted but was terrified of breaking it. 

Seonghwa though his cheeks felt wet. 

Hongjoong’s lips parted from his slowly, breathing deeply, as if he had been shoved underwater and was coming up for air. His forehead brushed against Seonghwa’s, but it disappeared quickly like he was afraid to be scolded. His hand flexed against Seonghwa’s shoulder, swallowing thickly. 

Goosebumps erupted over his flesh as Hongjoong’s gentle breaths fanned across his cheek. 

The air between them was thick. Stagnant. Confusing. 

Seonghwa’s throat was closed shut. 

Hongjoong took a sharp breath, remaining still for a moment. Seonghwa didn’t even know what he  _ could _ say. 

The hand around his disappeared. 

The hand on his shoulder withdrew. 

The small line of heat from Hongjoong’s body pulled away. 

“Good night,” he whispered hoarsely. Hongjoong laid down. Was still. 

Seonghwa couldn’t breathe. 

He touched his own lips gently, his skin burning in a way he had never felt before. He brought his hand to his cheeks that were damp but his own eyes were dry. 

What, why, Hongjoong, what,  _ why-  _

He breathed a little deeper, trying to erase the ghost sensation against his lips. 

It was too raw. 

Too much like a desperate cry that Seonghwa couldn’t understand. 

It was a language he didn’t know. One that Hongjoong… one he may have been speaking for a while. Seonghwa tried to see him in the dark, heart in his throat and his blood rushing like fire in his veins, but it wasn’t lust or desperation, it was  _ different _ . 

It was terrifying. 

Hongjoong slept on. As if he had not just driven a dagger into Seonghwa’s ribs. 

Everything was different. Everything buzzed with the energy of a live wire running in his veins. 

He was lucky he had gotten to nap earlier. Because he was never going to sleep tonight. 

Not with the sensation of gentle hands in his hair and warm, gentle lips he had never felt before against his. 

Not with Hongjoong’s tears drying on his face. 

Not with his entire body seeming to scream and thrash, demanding to know what that was-

Who was this?

This was not Hongjoong. 

This was not the box. 

Was this Hongjoong when he was allowed to breathe? 

Was this  _ meaning _ ? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so hopefully I’ll still find time to get started on the next chapter in between everything I have to do these next few days!  
> (Just a curious question: I don’t have any social media, but would anyone be interested if I made a tumblr or Twitter?? Just as an easier way of communication? I think it would be easier for me to really respond to anything you guys had to ask/say. So let me know if that’s something you think I should do!)  
> Thank you all and see you next chapter!   
> -SS


	4. A Shitty Fucking Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I made it faster than I thought!   
> I wrote most of this in one sitting when I had free time so I kinda hate everything that it is, but hopefully it’s not as bad as I think (and if is, please feel free to tell me!).   
> I’ll still be busy for a while, but I promise to try and get the next one going for you!   
> Thank you for all the amazing comments, you guys really make my heart feel so happy!   
> I hope you enjoy!  
> -SS  
> (I wanted to add a little trigger warnings for discussion of drug overdose and sexual abuse/rape. It’s not graphic, I don’t think, but it’s a little bit of a theme throughout the chapter)

Seonghwa was not asleep. 

Ghost sensations kept prickling at his skin, making him jerk back to full awareness, but each time he looked over, Hongjoong’s back was to him and his sleep seemed peaceful. 

However, as the night passed on, he was able to close his eyes. 

He was the closest to sleep he would likely get, that in-between of acknowledging the world around you but images flashing in your mind, like dreams that came and went like a slow blinking traffic sign. But he was too far from deep sleep. He didn’t see dreams, but memories. 

_ “Hyung, you should take a break.”  _

_ Silence.  _

_ “Hyung, you can’t just keep ignoring me. I’m not going to shut up until you actually admit you need fucking sleep.”  _

_ Typing. The worlds shifted, blurring, and it sounded like Yeosang was  _ huffing harshly _.  _

_ Yeosang hadn’t been angry, had he?  _

_ “Come on, I know you’re exhausted- You’re practically asleep at your desk, hyung! Please, just stop-”  _

_ Yeosang  _ struck him _.  _

_ Seonghwa reeled. That wasn’t what happened, Yeosang never  _ hit  _ h- _

Seonghwa snapped awake, eyes flying open just in time to block the arm that was flying directly at his face. 

He shot up, looking around the dim morning light for an attacker, an intruder- 

The room was empty, and a leg kicked him. He whipped his head to look at Hongjoong who was thrashing around in his sleep- 

He wasn’t asleep. His eyes were open, teeth gritted, and his limbs caught in a tangle of blankets he was desperately trying to free himself from- quick, harsh breaths tearing through his lungs. 

Seonghwa grabbed the blankets, trying to get them off of Hongjoong, heart racing from the sudden wake up. He managed to get them uncaught from Hongjoong’s feet, and his arms shoved the thick blankets off as Seonghwa pulled them away, grabbing at Hongjoong’s arms that were still shoving and thrashing. 

“Hongjoong, calm down-” He caught his wrist, and Hongjoong used his other hand to shove at the hand touching him. A noise that sounded so desperate left Hongjoong’s throat, Seonghwa jumped at the sudden yelp. 

“ _ Get off _ , get o-  _ Let go of me _ ,  _ Seonghwa _ ,  _ let go- _ ” It was scared, and Hongjoong’s weak hands could barely catch enough grip on Seonghwa to try and push him away. It sounded as if Seonghwa were squeezing him- hurting him- and not a stern grip to try and keep him from hurting himself. 

Seonghwa released him as if he had been touched with a branding iron, Hongjoong flying away- sitting up and pushing himself to the edge of the bed where he leaned over, clutching at his chest and breathing heavily- his back rising and falling rapidly. 

A very different reality than the gentle press of lips against his, soft hands in his hair- 

Seonghwa got up, searching the room and finding only a lukewarm half-drank bottle of orange juice. 

He grabbed it, walking to his own side of the bed, and waiting as Hongjoong swallowed thickly. 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare or just waking up in a foreign place or maybe something catalyzed by last night- 

_ Last night _ . 

Seonghwa shoved the sensation of unhurried lips away firmly. Not now. He could not deal with that right now. 

Only a minute passed before Hongjoong took a large breath, stretching his lungs, and released it, running a shaking hand through his sweat-damp hair. Seonghwa could barely make out what sounded like breaths, but were whispers to himself. He couldn’t hear what was being said. 

Seonghwa approached the bed slowly, sitting on the edge and leaning to tap Hongjoong’s shoulder with the orange juice bottle. He jumped, eyes flashing to Seonghwa’s- more coherently, but still clearly fighting the remnants of whatever woke him up. 

Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa as if he were scared. As if Hongjoong feared  _ him _ . He didn’t move. 

Seonghwa swallowed at the caged-animal eyes that stared at him. “Here.” It came out softer than he wanted, but Hongjoong glanced at the juice, taking it in a weak grip and trying to get a firm enough grip to open it with spasming hands and staccatoed breaths. “I’ll-” Seonghwa leaned, taking it from Hongjoong carefully, who let him, silent as Seonghwa unscrewed the top and handed it back. 

Hongjoong drained the bottle, letting out a low breath, like he was trying to hide how it shook. 

Seonghwa felt the urge to…. What? Rub his back? Pat him? That was what he did with Wooyoung that one time he got food poisoning and threw up so hard he couldn’t stand. 

_ Too intimate. Too much. Too soon.  _

Seonghwa wanted to ask if he was okay, but the answer seemed pretty obvious. 

Hell,  _ Seonghwa _ wasn’t really okay, and Hongjoong seemed leagues worse than him. 

_ A kiss.  _

“‘M  fine,” Hongjoong rasped, voice rough. He didn’t look at Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s eyes trailed over his tiny, shaking frame. “Nightmare?” he asked, careful to keep his voice soft, understanding the terrors that had been a catalyst to his insomnia. Being scared to go to sleep because of what you might see was a pretty good push to stay awake. 

Things were different. 

Thing had changed. 

Hongjoong has changed everything. 

Hongjoong laughed- weak and shaking. “Of sorts,” he whispered, rubbing at his face. “I need-” He stood, tilting for a second before steadying himself, glancing sideways when Seonghwa moved forward as well to steady him if needed. “I’m taking a shower,” he said in a rush, as if he needed to be out of this room  _ right now _ .

He rushed towards the bathroom, and Seonghwa straightened. “Leave the door unlocked,” he said firmly. 

Hongjoong froze in the doorway, one hand on the handle. 

“In case… you know, something happens. Just leave it unlocked,” Seonghwa said. He didn’t think Hongjoong was necessarily a danger to himself, but he didn't rule out passing out or slipping with how hard he seemed to be shivering. 

“Fine,” Hongjoong said quickly, closing the door. Seonghwa didn’t hear the lock click, but the water turned on, and he let out a rough breath, running a hand through his hair. This constant up and down with his adrenaline was going to give him a heart attack. 

Seonghwa didn’t know what the nightmare may have been. He didn’t know what sort of things would make Hongjoong react like that. His own nightmares had often been field-dreams. Running after a target and suddenly a bullet entering his chest, tearing him from the dream. Or laying with someone and suddenly a knife being driven into his chest. 

Seonghwa got up, trying to walk off the thrumming of his veins. He wanted to go outside, get fresh air and maybe get something to drink, but he didn’t think leaving Hongjoong alone right now was the best option. 

That’s exactly what he needed on top of everything else that had been swirling around. The ghost of last night still clinging to the edges of his mind that he was trying to smother. 

So he sat on the bed, taking out the burner phone Yeosang had given him. Not a flip one, but not quite the latest model. He turned it over, just feeling it in his hand, and watched as an hour passed without the water turning off. 

He stood, stepping over to the door and knocking on it gently. “Hongjoong?” he called in a low voice. “Just let me know you’re still alive in there.” 

A pause. “I’m fine.” It was hard to read the emotions there through the water falling and the door, but it was a response, which meant he was still breathing. 

“Okay,” was all he said, stepping back. His chest felt heavy. Like a piece of lead was lodged in there. Last night was… a lot. 

Somehow, Seonghwa thought that it would have been so much simpler if he had just slept with Hongjoong. Somehow, just a simple kiss was dragging claws through Seonghwa’s chest more painfully than a meaningless fuck. 

Meaning. 

He scrubbed at his eyes. Meaning, genuine, real- 

Why did Hongjoong seem real? What did he  _ want _ ? What did  _ Seonghwa  _ want?

What was wrong with Hongjoong? What was wrong with Seonghwa? 

How did they even begin to try and quantify what they were, what they thought, what they meant- 

Did the human language even have words for it? 

The water shut off. Seonghwa didn’t move. It was never a smart idea to start running, to draw attention to yourself, before you knew what the threat was. How serious. How dangerous. How volatile. 

The door cracked open, just enough to allow a sliver of light. “Close your eyes.” 

Seonghwa frowned, trying to lean and see through the crack. “What?”

Hongjoong coughed. “I need to get clothes. Close your eyes.”  His tone was neutral, giving away nothing- either nerves nor anger. 

Seonghwa frowned, wondering why he didn’t take this opportunity to try and flaunt- 

He stopped the thought in its tracks, feeling shame boil in his stomach. He lowered his head, covering his eyes with his palms. “I’m not looking,” he said firmly. 

He heard Hongjoong exit the bathroom, the go bag open, the rustle of clothes being pulled on. Hongjoong cleared his throat. “Okay.” 

Seonghwa slowly looked up, and Hongjoong was completely dressed- a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt that was slightly too big. His hair clung to his forehead from the shower, and he ruffled it with one hand to shake some water free. 

Seonghwa let his hands fall to his lap. Hongjoong’s didn’t move. Seonghwa’s didn’t shift. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The words were soft, but stilted, like a child trying to hold a pencil- not having done it enough to be versatile at it. 

Hongjoong’s shoulder stiffened, though his expression didn’t change. “About what?” 

“This morning,” Seonghwa said, before realizing Hongjoong probably thought he meant last night. 

Hongjoong wet his lips turning and zipping up the go bag. “No,” he said plainly. 

“... Do you think you need to?” 

He huffed softly, turning to Seonghwa. “I just said I didn’t.” 

“You didn’t  _ want  _ to,” Seonghwa said, pulling one leg onto the bed. “Wanting and needing to do things are very different.” 

Hongjoong stared at him, eyes trailing over Seonghwa’s face as if looking for a lie or a taunt. He swallowed, shifting away and fiddling with the gun on the TV stand, just to avoid his gaze. “It was just a nightmare. I’m sure you get them, too, when you actually sleep.” 

“They’re why I stopped sleeping in the first place, actually.” 

Hongjoong turned back so quickly, Seonghwa would have feared for his neck if not for the panic at having actually  _ said  _ that. Hongjoong’s expression showed a balant shock before he shut it all down and stared at Seonghwa passively. “What were they about?” 

No. Seonghwa never told people what the nightmares were about. Not even Yeosang. Not even Eden. He told one therapist after everything, but then he locked all those stupid images his brain gave him away and never let them see the light of day again. 

“I don’t like talking about them,” Seonghwa said stiffly. 

Hongjoong searched his face again. “Do you  _ need  _ to talk about them?” 

Seonghwa snorted, shaking his head. “Most definitely. But I’m not going to.” 

They still haunted him. They were like a smudge on the edge of glass. If you searched for them, if you knew they were there, you could remember what they were. Otherwise, you never even noticed something was off, something was wrong in that little corner. 

Right now, Hongjoong was pointing to the smudge. And Seonghwa didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

“Will you tell me… if I tell you about this morning?” 

Seonghwa looked up at Hongjoong sharply, but his expression giving nothing away. He was guarded. Last night, he had been an open book (written in another language), raw and bleeding, but now he was on the defensive. He was being careful. 

“Hongjoong, we aren’t third graders swapping secrets at a sleepover,” Seonghwa said, voice dull. “If you weren’t going to tell about them before, me sharing traumas shouldn’t suddenly make it okay to say.” 

Which meant either Hongjoong was using the nightmare to try and get information out of Seonghwa (a bad opinion) or he somehow did think that Seonghwa sharing would help him share himself (a better opinion). He wanted to try to give better opinions. 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together. “Did you ever say you were scared of something as a kid? Ever find out someone was scared of the same thing? Even if it was just failing a test? That never made you feel better? Never made you feel like you weren’t crazy for being scared?”

And ‘scared’ was a word Seonghwa was hesitant to ever use. ‘Scared’ sounded like children huddled under blankets, not seasoned agents confronting danger in the field. It sounded small and weak, and Seonghwa was not small and weak, he was an agent who faced death and didn’t laugh, but he didn’t cower away- 

But perhaps scared was what he felt the most, regardless of what word he tried to cover it with. What was Hongjoong scared of? What haunted his dreams in the same way they had haunted Seonghwa? 

A chance. 

What good would bringing up these nightmares do? Seonghwa never told them to anyone- not even Yeosang- so why should he tell Hongjoong? 

Because Hongjoong understood? Hongjoong probably feared the same things? Because it looked like Hongjoong needed someone to assure him that he wasn’t currently losing his mind? Maybe speaking about them served nothing but pain for Seonghwa, but Hongjoong looked like he needed to hear  _ something _ . 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. Hongjoong leaned against the TV stand, the room between them, and Seonghwa sighed, rubbing at his face and running a hand through his hair. Just stop thinking, he begged his mind. Things could go so much smoother if he just stopped  _ thinking _ . 

He was so tired and his brain was sluggish from everything that had been happening, and he just wanted to let it all go and just  _ stop giving a fuck _ . What did he care if Hongjoong knew what woke him up screaming some nights? What actual  _ fuck  _ did he give if Hongjoong wanted to spill his darkest secrets in return?

He was being  _ hunted  _ for fucks sake. 

He was actively being pursued by the agency he worked for- What the  _ fuck  _ was he doing, worrying about what the fuck Hongjoong might think of him, what Hongjoong might reveal to him? This was the absolute bottom of his problems at the moment, he just wanted to fucking stop. 

Stop thinking. Just  _ go _ . 

“All sorts of things,” Seonghwa said, voice heavy in his chest. He didn’t look up at Hongjoong. “Most of them involving me dying in some way or another.” 

A pause. “On missions?” Quiet. Careful. Hongjoong was being careful. 

“Mostly. Some not.” 

He could hear Hongjoong swallow from here. “How do you die in them?” 

Seonghwa huffed, not amused but needing some way to release the pressure in his chest. “Name it, and I’ve probably seen it. Mostly gunshots. Missions gone wrong. Drowning. Strangulation. Stabbing. You name it.” 

The silence rang hard in his ears for only a moment too long, and Seonghwa glanced up to see if Hongjoong was still listening, just as he spoke up in a level question: “Pills?” 

It felt like a hand going straight through Seonghwa’s chest. Grabbing his heart. Squeezing. His lungs locked up. 

_ Begging you to stop.  _

Seonghwa swallowed. Just stop giving a fuck. Stop thinking. What does it change if he knows? What the actual fuck did Seonghwa care what Hongjoong thought? 

A pause. 

“A few times.” 

Silence. 

“Is that why you don’t take sleeping pills?” And when Seonghwa searched Hongjoong’s face, it seemed as though everything had been stripped away. 

The caution. The confidence. The cocky smile and jutting hip. The slick agent training that made him slink around like a cat on the prowl. All the make up and pretenses were gone. 

Leaving just Hongjoong. Not an agent. Not a flirt. A tiny, scrawny man in a t-shirt and faded jeans, leaning against a TV stand, still shaken from a nightmare, and he looked  _ concerned _ . He stared at Seonghwa as if he felt  _ bad  _ for him. As if his own chest was hurting, just thinking about what Seonghwa dreamt about. 

There was empathy in his eyes. Not apathy, not flippancy. 

Hongjoong  _ cared _ . Hongjoong was being genuine. Not taunting. Not twisting Seonghwa to try and get him to spill some dark secret. 

He looked like Yeosang did. Like Wooyoung and Yunho when Seonghwa came in after a night of too little sleep and they knew they couldn’t say anything, so they just tried to send him mental signals that they were here if he needed them. 

Seonghwa sighed, scrubbing his face again. The box had been set on fire. The box was slowly burning- curling, blackening cardboard melting away to reveal not an asshole, not a flirt, not a horrible person whose only goal was his next lay- 

Just Hongjoong. Who stared at Seonghwa with crystalline eyes that were clouded over- like a diamond that someone had thrown away and let collect dust, never bothering to clean it. 

“I didn’t always have the nightmares,” Seonghwa said slowly- both for choosing the correct words and being too tired for this, already mentally exhausted just thinking about it. “But a few years ago, after a pretty close call where I got hospitalized after I was shot in the chest… they started becoming an issue.” 

His tongue felt like lead. He still remembered what that bullet felt like. His body liked to replay it over and over throughout the night. 

“There wasn’t a single night where I slept that I didn’t wake up reaching for my gun,” he confessed. “I’d think that I was dying, that there was someone in my apartment, that there was someone touching me… But there never was. I took a nap at work on day, and almost tried to kill Wooyoung when he shook me awake.”

Seonghwa still tasted bitter guilt in the back of his throat, awakening to Wooyoung pinned to the ground beneath him. Thankfully, he didn’t have his gun, but Wooyoung had been pretty shaken up about it. Seonghwa couldn’t look him in the eye for months. 

“People suggested I just take some sleeping pills.” He huffed. “Which was great. Because now I got a full eight hours of night terrors, unable to wake up from them. It was worse than not sleeping or the nightmares alone.” He swallowed, not willing to look at Hongjoong until he was finished. “I was exhausted, I was… I just took them anyway. And I just suffered through waking up feeling like I had been shot in the chest. At least I was sleeping. Sort of. I wasn’t really sleeping. I was just unconscious.” 

He heard the stand creak as Hongjoong shifted. 

“I took them every night. Maybe my body had gotten too used to them, but even three or four pills didn’t let me sleep for anything more than a couple hours after long. I was too afraid to take more or stronger ones, so I stopped, and I just… didn’t sleep again. I was tired of being forced inside these nightmares. But it was… definitely affecting my performance. I was twitchy, glancing over my shoulder all the time, jumping at fucking doors slamming. My nerves were shot.” 

He remembered staring at target practice, seeing double as he shot and completely missed the entire cutout. Yeosang standing at his desk and begging him to just go home and try to sleep, as if that would suddenly take away his self-imposed insomnia. The circles under his eyes almost turning black as he continually had a cup of coffee within reach at all times. 

“The nightmares actually did lessen, with time, as I moved on from the incident. I didn’t see them every time I closed my eyes. But I guess I had gotten used to not sleeping.” He had to huff a laugh. “I honestly thought I was dying,” Seonghwa confessed quietly. “It felt like everyday my body was trying to shut down, but it never slept.” 

His body just begging him to stop and rest. 

His mind just begging his body to shut down and fucking rest. 

“But it wasn’t until I messed up in the field, that I finally did something. It was stupid- I was jittery, I was sleep-deprived, and when I saw someone dressed in black like our target coming around a corner, I shot at them. Forgetting that my partner for that mission was also dressed in black. I shot him in the leg, the target got away, and Eden ordered me out of the agency for the next week.”

Seonghwa had gotten home and he was so tired. He was so exhausted, he just stood in his doorway, wondering what the hell he should do. 

“I decided I didn’t care about nightmares or consequences, I just wanted to actually fucking  _ sleep _ .” He remembered walking to his bathroom cabinet, the little bottle he had been too afraid to go back to. “I took… too many pills, we’ll say.” 

He wanted to look at Hongjoong. Wanted to know what kind of face he looked at Seonghwa with. But he didn’t. Seonghwa wouldn’t call what he felt shame, but… this was an action he was not proud of. It was a time he didn’t like to think about, even if it did follow him like a hunting dog caught on a scent. 

“Yeosang had called me. I didn’t wake up. He and Wooyoung came over, thinking I was upset at being dismissed and wanting to cheer me up or something. And they couldn’t wake me up.” Seonghwa’s throat was dry. “I woke up in the hospital with my stomach pumped, and a doctor scolding me about taking so many, how I should have known better…” 

Seonghwa could have probably summed up the whole story with “I got desperate and overdosed on sleeping pills and now I’m terrified to take them again, so that’s why I don’t take them.” But he didn’t. 

He did finally looked up at Hongjoong. 

He didn’t look… horrified. But his expression was slightly stricken, his lips pressed together in a thin line. 

Seonghwa couldn’t call it relief in his chest. But… it did feel different. Having said it all aloud. He had said it all before, at the therapy session they required him to get, but it felt different. Hongjoong was not a therapist. He was not getting paid to listen to Seonghwa’s problems. He wasn’t required to sit there, indifferent, and not influence Seonghwa’s story. 

In all honesty, Hongjoong shouldn’t have given a fuck either. But… 

He looked sorry for Seonghwa. Like he regretted what happened, like he was sorry Seonghwa had gone through that. The therapist hadn’t been sorry. She had just asked if this was him trying to end his own life. 

It was not. 

Hongjoong pushed off of the TV stand, walking slowly to his side of the bed and sitting down carefully, the farthest distance from Seonghwa that he could manage. 

Silence rang. Seonghwa didn’t try to break or hurry it. Hongjoong stared at the sheets. Because really, what could you actually say in response to something like that? Silence was probably better. 

The air between them was different. As if someone had taken a fan and started waving away the smog, allowing them to see a little better. Breathe a little easier. 

Less than twenty four hours ago, things had been so different. Why was everything happening so fast? Seonghwa couldn’t keep up. He was slipping and sliding down a slope and just hoping Hongjoong was able to try and catch him at the bottom. 

Not an easy thing to do. But…. something he thought was necessary. 

This was speaking. Not yelling. Not waiting for one of them to say the wrong thing. There was no purpose in saying all of this other than passing along knowledge in hopes of  _ understanding _ . 

It was the purest form of communication the two had ever had. 

Hongjoong’s fingers curled into fists in the sheets. “What’s your opinion on consent?” 

_ Consent is sexy,  _ he remembered Hongjoong saying, clicking his tongue. It seemed a strangely random topic, but if Hongjoong was asking, it must have something to do with everything. 

“I think it’s not an opinion- it’s a necessity,” Seonghwa said firmly. Whether this was relevant or not, his answer was resolute. “Even  _ we  _ don’t continue with a target if they flat out refuse our advances. We find another way to get the information.” 

“And outside of missions?” Hongjoong asked, swallowing thickly, his shoulders tense. 

Seonghwa frowned. “Well, I don’t really have much use for it outside. I don’t sleep with people-” 

“Just answer the question.” It wasn’t a snap, but it was sharp, like Hongjoong needed to hear it said. 

_ Can I kiss you, Seonghwa?  _

He pressed his lips together, frowning.  “I think it’s a necessity outside as well. Perhaps even more so. Even hesitancy or being unsure… those should be red lights to people.” 

Hongjoong let out a short breath, a little shaky. “So if you were with someone-  _ hypothetically- _ ” he said sharply. “If you were with someone… and in the middle of everything they told you to stop… would you do it?”

“Without hesitation,” Seonghwa said quickly, wondering if Hongjoong really did think Seonghwa was the type of person to try and continue after someone explicitly- 

Good opinions. A chance. 

“Why do you ask?” 

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing at his cheeks. “You saw my mental health evals.” 

“I saw that you had some,” Seonghwa said. “I didn’t look into them.” 

Shame still burned in his stomach. 

He nodded. “That mental break I had-” 

“Is this related to this morning?” Seonghwa asked, tilting his head. “Because I don’t need you to share your entire mental health history. That’s your own business. That’s why I didn’t look in the first place.” 

Hongjoong’s expression was unreadable, and Seonghwa was getting tired of not being able to tell what he was thinking. He almost looked grateful. “It’s related,” Hongjoong assured him, sparing Seonghwa only a glance he couldn’t decipher. He turned back to stare at his hands. “I was a bit of a newbie. Only in the field for a year or so. And I went on a mission in some club. Got the guy interested, played the game, convinced him we could have some fun if he agreed to tell me about some business partner he had.” 

Hongjoong picked at the threads of the sheets. His voice was sure, even if his body seemed a little shaken. Which lead Seonghwa to believe that the actual event was not what was making him seem so scared, but whatever nightmare had spawned in relation to it. Eight or more years was a long time to move on from something. But some scars never fully healed. Some smudges could never really be cleaned off. Whether he moved on or not, these things stuck with you in the little things. 

“He was into some BDSM shit,” Hongjoong went on, shaking his head. “Which, I’ll admit, I used to be pretty into. I didn’t have any sort of issue with what he proposed- tying up my hands, blindfolds. It wasn’t any sort of hardcore shit, so I was down. And he was… well, more than down for it.” 

Hongjoong throat bobbed and he rubbed at his forehead, as if trying to erase something in his mind. 

He seemed small. 

Different than his usual note of Hongjoong’s size. Hongjoong seemed  _ small _ . It didn’t settle in his chest right, wringing itself with anxiety. 

“It was going great. He was talking, I was laying down all nice and pretty for him… And then things started going places we hadn’t discussed. He started hitting me. Which wasn’t that bad. But I didn’t like it. I was twitchy after that. I was still new to everything. I was suddenly realizing just how powerless I was against this man. And then in the middle of him fucking me… I started panicking.” He cleared this throat hard. “I don’t know what caused it. I just remember thinking that I needed to get out of there. I used my safeword.” 

He swallowed. 

“He didn’t listen.” 

Seonghwa’s heart felt like it had frozen in his chest. He stared at Hongjoong who didn’t look up. His own lungs felt like they were filling with oil. 

Seonghwa never had to do much with the more…. Specialized scenes. He had been to a few clubs like that, done some of the lighter stuff, but he really wasn’t all that into it. He could survive it for the purpose of the mission, but it was never pleasant. And he had never needed to use a safeword before. And he could try and imagine… but he didn’t want to. 

“And even when I kept trying to get him to stop… he didn’t.” 

Hongjoong sounded dull. Like a faded photograph that looked so sad- holding something that was once bright but looking so worn. 

Seonghwa felt like he needed to vomit. 

“In the end, I got my information, he left, and I…” Hongjoong chuckled bitterly. “Well, I tried to brush it off. I was a little… on edge for a few days, but I figured I was fine. And then I was on another job and the guy pinned my wrists down, and I couldn’t move. I panicked.  _ Hard _ . I completely ruined the mission, shoving him off of me and drawing my fucking  _ gun  _ on him.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “I made a huge mess of the whole thing. The agency took me off of active duty while they tried to figure out if I still fit to be a field agent. They needed to make sure I didn’t try and shoot anyone they needed information from anymore.” 

Hongjoong shrugged. “I went to their therapy sessions, I talked about it, the therapist said I should be fine as long as I was kept on low level threats for a while and cleared me for duty. I went back into the fray, back to doing baby targets, but I was okay. And then eventually, I moved back up bigger fish, and now we’re here.” He gestured around them. 

Seonghwa felt sick. Like he was swallowed sour milk. Like something in his chest was rotting away. 

He wanted to say something. Felt like he needed to say something. But what on earth could he possibly say that wouldn’t just sound so stupid? So vapid coming from someone like him, who had the history they had? 

“Is that what you dreamed of?” Seonghwa asked quietly, voice hoarse. Hongjoong frantically trying to free himself from confining blankets, panicking and shoving Seonghwa off when he grabbed him and tried to hold him. 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly, glancing on Seonghwa. Fear. “Do you trust me?” he asked suddenly. 

And Seonghwa blanked. “What?”

Hongjoong shifted more fully onto the bed, facing Seonghwa, expression open and nervous. “Do you trust me?” he repeated. 

Seonghwa  opened his mouth. Closed it. Trust him to do what? Tie him up and blindfold him? Watch his back? Save his life? Tell the truth? Because his immediate reaction was- maybe. But he stopped thinking. And started realizing. What the hell had he been doing this entire time? What other choice did he have but to trust Hongjoong? 

And as much as he had tried to fight it… Hongjoong had proven he could be trusted. Could be relied upon. He had kept up with and helped Seonghwa this whole time, hadn’t he? He had made promises and kept them. He had not wavered, despite Seonghwa expectation that he would. 

Hongjoong has always been trustworthy. Somghes had just been an asshole. 

Was Seonghwa really going to keep playing this game? Just fucking  _ go with it,  _ you absolute ass. 

He glanced over Hongjoong before nodding. “I think I do, yes.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered over Seonghwa, like an animal trying to find the best way around a threat- his fur standing on end and his haunches raised.  Hongjoong rose up onto his knees on the bed, moving over towards Seonghwa and sitting on his knees in front of him. 

Seonghwa flexed his hands. This was seeming an awful lot like last night. 

But he hadn’t done anything yet. 

Hongjoong wet his lips. “Will you kiss me?” he asked, voice tinging towards slightly desperate, a little breathy. “I need to see something.” Nervous. 

No, was Seonghwa’s immediate answer. Because what purpose did it serve? It wasn’t dark now, Seonghwa was still confused on what last night meant. But Hongjoong stared at him with slightly wide eyes, as if he really did need to find something out. 

Not asking if he could kiss Seonghwa, like last night where Seonghwa sat by as Hongjoong explored. If  _ Seonghwa  _ could kiss  _ Hongjoong _ . 

Did this have to do with his whole consent thing? Was this supposed to be some sort of comfort to Hongjoong, after the nightmare? Was this trying to erase the fear still clinging? Or did he just want Seonghwa to kiss him? 

Was he being used? Was this meaning? Did he just  _ want _ to? 

Good. Bad. Push. Pull. 

What was another kiss, after he had allowed one? 

_ Just stop fucking thinking _ . 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. “You want me to kiss you?” he repeated, for no real reason other than to buy himself time. Hongjoong nodded firmly, expression twitching from nervous to confident to closed off, as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to show. 

“Are you sure?” Again, it didn’t really serve a purpose but the drown out the yelling in Seonghwa’s mind. 

Hongjoong’s lips twitched- not in amusement- but like he was trying to keep an expression from manifesting. “Yes. I’m sure I want you to kiss me.” 

Seonghwa took a breath. “Fine.” 

Seonghwa wished it was dark again. It would make it easier. He wouldn’t be able to see Hongjoong’s eyes flickering around his face as Seonghwa shifted forward until their knees pressed together. Wouldn’t see Hongjoong’s throat bob as Seonghwa tried to find a position that wasn’t awkward or painful, placing a hesitant hand on the back of Hongjoong’s neck (Wouldn’t have to watch his eyes flutter close at the gentle touch, or see the way his jaw tightened.) 

He almost looked like he was waiting for Seonghwa to hurt him. 

And Seonghwa paused at the thought, hand still gentle on the back of Hongjoong’s neck, his eyes tracking from the tension in his shoulders to his stiff hands on his knees and the tightness of his jaw. He looked like he was waiting for a blow.

Did Hongjoong think Seonghwa would hurt him?

_ I need to see something.  _

Consent. Nightmares. Seonghwa still wasn’t sure where the pieces fit together, but he knew that Hongjoong was perhaps correct: he needed this. For what, Seonghwa was still trying to figure out, but it was enough to have him lean forward, Hongjoong coming without needing prompting. 

Seonghwa had kissed probably thousands of people. It was his job. He had now kissed Hongjoong twice and both time- though vastly different- were completely different from a thousand other kisses. 

Not in a cringy romantic way of fireworks and slow burning love. (Seonghwa wanted to scoff.) 

But in the way that Seonghwa had never been with someone who had acted… well, like Hongjoong that first time. And whether the kiss had been using their training or not, Seonghwa had never experienced it before. And then last night, gentle and curious and scared… not even his most inexperienced of partners kissed like that. 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure where the line they were drawing was. So, he followed Hongjoong’s example of last night: just a brush of lips, Hongjoong letting out a soft puff of breath against his lips before leaning into it slightly. 

He didn’t grip Seonghwa hair and take over. 

His hands remained on his knees and didn’t touch Seonghwa. Seonghwa could understand Hongjoong’s hesitancy last night. He didn’t really know what to do with himself. His hands, his tongue… what the hell did he do with them if he wasn’t using them? 

He moved his lips gently against Hongjoong’s that were slightly raw from him worrying them between his teeth, and for several seconds, that was all they did. Seonghwa didn’t know what was supposed to happen. Hongjoong didn’t try and deepen or change the kiss. Seonghwa placed a hand on the bed to lean forward a bit more. 

“Stop.” 

The word was said quietly but firmly against his lips, and Seonghwa jerked back, blinking as Hongjoong kept his eyes closed, swallowing and breath coming just the slightest bit faster than usual. Seonghwa removed his hand from behind his neck, wondering what he had done wrong, but Hongjoong caught his wrist in a gentle hold as his eyes opened slowly. 

“Will you kiss me again?” His voice was hoarse. Raw. “Harder?” 

Was this supposed to be building up to something? Seonghwa was so fucking confused, he didn’t understand Hongjoong- 

A chance. 

Was it really the best idea to be giving in like this? Seonghwa should be asking questions, right? But Hongjoong didn’t look like he was looking to give answers. What was the point of it all? Hongjoong was shaken, but he was still clever. There  _ had  _ to be a reason. 

Seonghwa nodded once. 

Hongjoong wet his lips and rested Seonghwa’s hand back on his shoulder. Seonghwa brushed his thumb over the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re sure?” he asked because somehow he seemed like he needed a little extra reassurance. 

“Yes.” Quick, quiet. 

Seonghwa rolled his lips, but leaned in, Hongjoong meeting him, and Seonghwa kissed him slow again. His hand slid to thread in the damp strands of Hongjoong’s hair, and when Hongjoong lifted a hand to grab slightly at Seonghwa’s shirt, he pulled him more firmly against him. 

It was still a tame kiss, still innocent compared to what Seonghwa usually did, but Hongjoong licked at Seonghwa’s lips and turned it into a more open-mouth kiss, warmth and heat passing between them. Tentatively, cautiously, Seonghwa ran his tongue along Hongjoong’s bottom lip. 

Hongjoong tightened his grip on Seonghwa’s shirt, pulling him closer slightly, shifting up on his knees and shifting closer, position his legs around Seonghwa as he pulled closer, sucking on Seonghwa’s tongue lightly. 

Seonghwa placed his other hand on Hongjoong’s hip, holding it gently, rubbing his thumb across fabric as he felt wet heat against his lips- 

“Stop,” Hongjoong breathed. 

Seonghwa pulled away quickly, frowning at Hongjoong whose hands were shaking on his shirt. But Hongjoong simply climbed forward the rest of the way, knees planting on either side of Seonghwa’s hips as he straddled his lap. 

Seonghwa almost pulled back from the far too intimate position, but Hongjoong clutched at his bicep as Seonghwa had to tilt his head to see him. 

“Kiss me,” he demanded, slightly breathless. 

Seonghwa frowned up at him, a hand ready to push. “Hongjoong-” 

“Please,” Hongjoong said quickly, his eyes shining as he blinked, swallowing and buzzing. “Seonghwa, please, just kiss me.” 

He wasn’t rutting down against Seonghwa. He wasn’t trying to touch Seonghwa anywhere. This whole event had been oddly innocent for them. He placed a hand on Hongjoong’s hip. Seonghwa was not going to let this become anything other than a kiss. But whatever it was Hongjoong needed to reassure himself about, Seonghwa felt like this was important to his mental health. 

He tilted his head up, and Hongjoong met him, this kiss deeper, Hongjoong actively pressing against him, fingers threading into Seonghwa’s hair but not tugging, lifting up on his knees slightly for a better angle, licking into Seonghwa’s mouth as he pressed back. 

A protective hand on Hongjoong’s hip, another cupping his cheek. 

“Stop,” Hongjoong panted into the kiss. 

Seonghwa pulled away, mouth wet, and Hongjoong’s eyes stayed clenched shut tightly as he surged forward again, kissing Seonghwa before allowing Seonghwa to take back over. 

A push and pull. 

Consent. 

“Stop.” 

A pause, and then Hongjoong fell back against him, as if he had said nothing at all, his lips becoming more desperate, licking deeper as if he were trying to mold himself into Seonghwa who met him push for push. 

_ I used my safeword. He didn’t listen.  _

“Stop.” 

Again. Repeat. Hongjoong moaned into his mouth, keeping an almost painful grip on Seonghwa’s bicep, gasping into the kiss he didn’t part from even to breathe. 

_ If you were with someone… and in the middle of everything they told you to stop…  _

“Stop.”

Seonghwa had barely even stopped the kiss before Hongjoong captures his lips again, chest rising and falling rapidly, and it took Seonghwa several moments to realize that his cheeks were wet, the heavy breaths coming from Hongjoong’s chest a poorly disguised sob. 

_ Would you do it? _

Hongjoong suddenly grabbed Seonghwa’s hand on his hip, placing it firmly against his crotch and rutting his hips up against it. He moaned, and Seonghwa resisted the urge to jerk his hand away. 

That’s not what this was, he realized. Even when Hongjoong released his hand, Seonghwa kept it there, waiting for- 

“Stop.” 

This was one barely a breath, barely audible, but Seonghwa heard it and he removed his hand. Stopping kissed. Stopped touching. 

Hongjoong’s head suddenly fell forward, his forehead resting against Seonghwa’s shoulder, his shoulders slumped forward as if he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up. His cries were silent, but Seonghwa could feel the wet gathering there through his shirt. Hongjoong fisted his shirt, sucking a sharp breath that came out more like a cry. 

He didn’t sob. But it became more obvious that he was crying- his breaths shaking and short hiccups falling from his throat as he shook against Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa sat still, one hand resting on Hongjoong’s hip. His heart beat painfully hard, inexperienced against the raw, sensitive part of Hongjoong that was leaning against him. 

Some scars never fully healed. 

It was clear, that the experience had colored something in Hongjoong. And maybe that thing was nothing more than a desire to know that his wishes would be respected. Maybe it was as deep as fearing every intimate interaction for fear of being hurt again. Maybe it was only a smudge on his window- there, but ignored after eight years. 

However often it manifested, however serious and debilitating it was, however much it affected him on daily or work basis… 

Seonghwa’s chest ached like a weight was set atop it. 

Him and Hongjoong… were perhaps not as polar opposite as Seonghwa had thought. Certainly, they had similarities in their lives. Different events, different outcomes, but somehow connecting. 

The man. Him. Desperate kisses and fear filled eyes staring at him like a caged animal- 

Seonghwa’s stomach dropped. “Your nightmare,” he whispered, not really capable of going any higher than that. Hongjoong stiffened against him. “Was it about… me?” 

He could feel Hongjoong swallow, letting out a short breath. 

Seonghwa waited. This was one conclusion he could not jump to. 

Hongjoong lifted his head slightly. Removed his hands from Seonghwa’s shirt. He kept his face hidden behind his hair as he shifted off of Seonghwa’s lap, landing on the bed next to him and shifting over until there was the entirety of the bed between them. 

Hongjoong scrubbed at his eyes, clearing his throat harshly. 

“You were there,” he said quietly, surprising Seonghwa with the verbal response. “After last night- I… It happens sometimes,” he said quickly, voice low, “with people. But you were… there. As that guy.” 

Seonghwa was that guy? 

“You didn’t stop,” Hongjoong whispered, face entirely obscured by his hair and hands. “When I woke up…” 

And Seonghwa was there beside him. Trying to hold him down. 

Seonghwa’s stomach was about to throw up everything he hadn’t eaten. Maybe Seonghwa of a few days ago would have tried to demand how Hongjoong could think he was that sort of person (regardless of the unfathomability of nightmares). 

But it didn’t cross his mind. He didn’t want to accuse. Only reassure. 

“Hongjoong, I would never-” 

“I know,” he burst quietly. “I know that and I never thought that you wouldn’t, but-” 

But nightmares. But fucked up brains. But years in a profession that made you question everything, fear everything, see everything you never thought you could ever imagine but somehow here it was- your worst fear you didn’t even know you had. 

“But you stopped,” Hongjoong whispered, rubbing at his arm, as if he were chilled. “You stopped.” He said it firmly. Like he was reminding himself. 

“You told me to,” Seonghwa said simply because that’s how simple it was. 

Hongjoong swallowed, running a hand through his hair before letting it hide his face again. “Sorry,” he said, and Seonghwa blinked because he was pretty sure this was first time the word had ever passed through Hongjoong’s lips. “I keep... I shouldn’t have shoved all that on you. That probably crossed more than a few lines where we’re concerned.” He tried to laugh. He failed. 

_ Where is the line?  _

_ Is this right? Is this okay?  _

He didn’t want to cross the line. 

“You asked,” Seonghwa reminded him. “I agreed.” 

“I sort of demanded it,” Hongjoong said, lips quirked sadly. He pressed his palms to his eyes. “God, I’m so fucked up,” he muttered. 

Somehow… it hurt a little to hear. 

And Seonghwa never thought Kim fucking Hongjoong would need reassurance and comfort from him of all fucking people. Seonghwa never thought that he would ever give the time of day, much less comfort to Kim fucking Hongjoong 

“No more than me,” Seonghwa admitted, and this was perhaps their connecting factor: they were both pretty fucked up. Sleeping with guns under pillows and crying just because your partner stopped when you told them too and ugly hatred because you sought out intimacy and got it thrown back in your face and flirting shamelessly to try and hide…  _ something _ you didn’t want the world to see. 

Kissing quietly and hesitantly because you were afraid of crossing a line that hadn’t existed before that moment. 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together as Hongjoong glanced over at him slowly. 

“Why did you kiss me last night?” 

Hongjoong didn’t move. Didn’t try and play dumb (it would have been useless and a little insulting to both their intelligences). Didn’t try to deflect. Didn’t try to run. Didn’t try to lie. 

He simply wet his lips, shaking his head. 

Seonghwa didn’t want to tear the answer out of him. But he wanted to hear Hongjoong’s voice explain it. Wanted to hear what was going through his mind. Wanted to understand for just one moment what went through Hongjoong’s carefully hidden mind. 

If the intimacy of last night was too much, too fast, than this information swap- the passing of delicate, fragile secrets and fears; the terror caught in their chests at handing over those pieces of themselves for no other reason than to  _ understand- _

“Was it some sort of experiment?’ Seonghwa asked, not accusing but prompting. “Just to see if I would agree? Just to see if you could?” 

“No.” Dull. Firm. 

“Then what?” Seonghwa stressed, shifting to face him. “Hongjoong, I told you before, I don’t understand you. I’ve never been able to understand you. And even now, I’m more confused than ever, but I’m  _ trying _ . I’m trying to understand and view you as an actual person instead of just a pain in my ass-” 

Hongjoong snorted softly, glancing at Seonghwa out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m still a pain in your ass.” 

“Everyone is a pain in my ass,” Seonghwa told him firmly. “But I’m… I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to be better about… well, everything. But I need  _ something  _ from you, Hongjoong. I can’t read your mind- yours more than most are a fucking enigma to me-” 

He snorted. 

“-and one of the top enigmatic behaviors you have exhibited since I fucking met you was what we did last night.” 

In eight years and so much fucking shit between them, somehow, Hongjoong had topped it all with last night. 

Too much. Too soon. 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together until they turned white. Seonghwa shrugged, spreading his hands. “So what-” 

A sharp ringing broke through the room, making both of them jump, Seonghwa’s hand automatically flew to the bedside where a gun sat, but the sound then registered with both of them simultaneously: a phone ringing. 

Seonghwa stood quickly, Hongjoong following as he snatched the burner phone off the TV stand. No caller ID. He answered it, putting it on speaker as Hongjoong came and stood across from him. 

When Seonghwa glanced at him, Hongjoong’s eyes were hard and icy. His muscles stiff, but tensed to move rather than hide. 

An enigma. 

“Hello?” Seonghwa said cautiously. 

“ _ Hyung _ ,” Wooyoung’s voice broke through, slightly crackly and rushed. “Uh- Holy shit, okay, we have a little- I mean, Yeosang was going to call you, but he is currently caught up in the shitstorm going on upstairs, and we weren’t gonna call while we were at the agency, but we didn’t think we could wait-” 

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa cut in sharply, stomach sinking. “What the fuck happened?” 

“No, I know, hyung, I’m getting there,” Wooyoung said, huffing as if he was rushing somewhere. “I- Okay-”

“Wooyoung!”

“Gong is dead.” 

Seonghwa’s blood chilled as Hongjoong looked up at him sharply, but of them turning back to the phone. “Dead?” he demanded. “How?” 

“Sniper,” Wooyoung said, sounding vaguely ill. “Through a window across the street while he was walking to his car to head to a meeting. Straight through the head, he was dead before he hit the ground.” 

Gong… was dead. By a sniper. Interesting coincidence. 

“The entire agency is in a fucking uproar, given how public the death was- the middle of broad daylight,” Wooyoung hissed. “They’ve got Yeosang swamped with contacting news outlets to get them to shut the fuck up about it and calling other branches of KQ to see what they know.” He swallowed. “Hyung, that email we saw-” 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Seonghwa said darkly. 

_ I expect your response within the hour.  _

Gong had insulted and threatened Kim Jaehyun. No wonder the man decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. This man was clearly someone who found pleasure, not business, in killing people. 

“He’s the only one dead?” Hongjoong asked. 

“Yeah, everyone else is fine across the board. Unless you could Eden’s grey hairs.” 

“Did you and Yeosang find info on Hyorin?” Seonghwa demanded. 

“Uh, yeah, some,” he said. “I’ll send you the intel as soon as I can, but it might have to wait until tonight, they’re-” His voice suddenly sounded far away from the phone, speaking to someone else. “I’m getting there, Lee! Look at your own fucking work!” And then his voice was back. “I gotta go, hyung, but keep an eye out. If this guy killed his paycheck-” 

“Then he’s done with business,” Seonghwa agreed. “It’s now just a game for pleasure.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Lee!” Wooyoung yelled. “I gotta go,” he hissed. 

“Thanks, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa said quickly. “You two stay safe, alright?”

“Yep.” A click and dial tone, and Seonghwa lowered the fun, meeting Hongjoong’s hard eyes. 

“What email?” Hongjoong asked, frowning. 

Oh, right. He had stormed out during that part. Seonghwa grabbed the laptop off the ground and sat on the bed. “Wooyoung got into the database. Gong’s emails were there, and we found some correspondents that were  _ slightly _ incriminating.” He woke the computer up as Hongjoong came and sat beside him. 

Strange, how only minutes ago they had their tongues down each other’s throats- 

No. 

Strange, how only minutes ago they had been discussing their darkest fears and insecurities with each other. and yet here they were discussing the man hunting them down. After Hongjoong had cried. After Seonghwa had kissed him, just to prove to him that someone would stop.  

They had that switch quite a lot, didn’t they? 

At the very least, Seonghwa was grateful and impressed with Hongjoong’s ability to shove everything away to focus on the mission. The tears had dried and the shaking had been stilled. Now, it was just hard eyes and hands twitching for a weapon. 

The same as Seonghwa. 

The screen came back to life, and Seonghwa was brought face to face with Hongjoong’s mental health evals. He exited them quickly, lips pressing together as he went to the icon Wooyoung had set up for the emails. 

“Two people. One who specifically is asking for me dead, and then a man named Kim Jaehyun who’s coordinating the whole hunt. I  think he’s the man I keep seeing- at the rally and on the way to your apartment.” 

“Kim Jaehyun,” Hongjoong muttered, taking the laptop and scanning the emails to read. 

“I didn’t recognize the name,” Seonghwa confessed. “I’ve never heard of him before.” 

Hongjoong tilted his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just two common names. I’ll keep thinking on it.” He was silent for several moments, reading the emails and humming. “So it’s not even a personal grudge. That will probably actually make it easier to clear up. But like you said-” he tapped the screen- “Gong threatened to cut his pay. Whatever other conversations that they had must have been enough for Jaehyun to think it was worth losing his paycheck over.” 

A short silence, and Hongjoong scoffed. “Good riddance,” he muttered. “A bastard like that didn’t deserve to work in this agency anyway.” 

Seonghwa wondered idly (behind the part of his mind trying to piece together what Jaehyun’s next move would be) if Hongjoong had ever been privy to corruption in the agency. He certainly acted like he did. Or was it just a violent skepticism born from the past? 

“We should still be safe here for a couple days,” Hongjoong decided, scrolling through the emails again. “But we should be ready to run if he does show up.” 

Because there was no way this man was just going to kill Gong and walk away with a bruised pride. He would still kill them. Just for fun. Just because he could. Maybe he would try and collect payment for the original person who wanted them dead. 

“That’s one less person to worry about, I guess,” Seonghwa muttered. “With Gong gone, the only people currently being an issue are the original email sender and Jaehyun.” And Seonghwa frowned suddenly. “Wait. With Gong gone, the agency should be clear now, right? We’re only being hunted by a hitman with a psycho disorder. Can’t we go back to the agency to try and get something sort out?” 

Hongjoong clicked his tongue. “Assuming Gong was the only one in on it, and not just the main correspondent.” 

Seonghwa really hated Hongjoong’s pessimism that made just enough sense to be realism. 

“But Jaehyun’s gone rogue,” Seonghwa reminded him. “He’s not listening to anyone at the agency, even if there still was someone who was still working to kill me.” 

“Until they gather enough money to start making him listen again.” 

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes. “Do you not want to go back to the agency?” he asked pointedly. “Because this is going a little farther than cautious paranoia.” 

Hongjoong stared at him sharply. “There are probably still people working behind the scenes,” he said firmly. “We don’t want to be sitting in their laps when they  decide to shove us off and into Jaehyun’s hands.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “The likelihood of that happening is slim to none!” Seonghwa said. “You’re not being reasonable, Hongjoong.” 

“Aren’t  _ you  _ the one with the chronic paranoia?” Hongjoong snapped. Seonghwa’s mouth closed slowly, his eyes dark, and he saw the way the spark immediately died in Hongjoong’s eyes. “That was out of line,” he said heavily. “But you’re so quick to distrust everyone  _ but _ the agency. If we walk back in there, there’s nothing stopping any of the agents in there from contacting Jaehyun and taking out us in one fell swoop.” 

“We can’t keep this fight going on our own,” Seonghwa pressed, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. “Jaehyun is following his own rules now. He’ll be faster now. We can’t keep waiting for Yeosang and Wooyoung to feed us information. I can’t keep asking them to risk themselves. We can’t keep holding onto emails like these-” he gestured carelessly- “when these are enough to pin against Jaehyun and Hyorin’s father. We’d have more protection that a shitty love hotel on the edge of the city is giving us.”

“You  _ need _ to realize how far out on the line we are,” Hongjoong said sharply, staring at him coldly. “The agency is the first fucking place he’ll look. Word will spread that we’re back, and we just broadcasted out location to the man who wants you dead! You’re out of the  _ database _ , Seonghwa. That’s more than just Gong working against you-” 

“That’s a risk we have to take if we’re going to make-”

“Your life is not a risk to take!” Hongjoong snapped, fist hitting the bed soundlessly. He glared at Seonghwa who blinked in shock. “You’ve spent your entire life talking about saving lives, but you’re so willing to throw yours away at the first sign of trouble?” 

“I’m not throwing it away,” Seonghwa fought back, just as sharp. “But I’m not going to keep hanging out in a hotel full of innocent people and rely on people like Yeosang and Wooyoung to fight my battles. They’re not field agents, Hongjoong, they didn’t sign up for this shit-  _ I  _ did.” He hit his own chest. “When Jaehyun busts in, guns blazing, I’m not going to be say I stood near meat shields.” 

“Oh, put your noble pride-” 

“This isn’t about noble pride!” Seonghwa snapped angrily. “It’s about wanting this to be fucking  _ over _ , Hongjoong! If we can get people mobilized to go after Jaehyun and Hyorin’s father, we could end this threat within the week! But we can’t do that on our own. We have to go the agency. We have to-” 

“I’m not letting you walk right into the place that a minute ago was actively hunting you!” Hongjoong stood, running a hand through his hair and glaring. “I’m not going to risk you like that.” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth, an ‘it’s my choice what I do’ on his tongue, but the words stuck in his throat. 

I’m not going to risk you like that. 

And God, there really was something wrong with Seonghwa. But the words made his chest tighten uncomfortably. They almost sounded caring. 

Not ‘that was a traumatic experience and no one should have to go through that’ caring. 

But ‘I don’t want you to die’ caring. Which, admittedly, he and Hongjoong had been at for a while, but it hadn’t been said in so many words. 

(Gentle lips and soft hands and tears on his cheeks-) 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together, heat thrumming in his veins. “Are you fighting the agency because you legitimately think it will result in us getting killed? Or are you just scared and grasping at straws to keep me away from it because you don’t want to blame yourself if we do get killed?” 

Hongjoong glared. “Is there is difference?” he demanded. “Both end up with you dead.” 

Seonghwa: we could die. 

Hongjoong: you could die. 

“There is,” Seonghwa said, tongue feeling a little numb. “One is rational. The other is not.” 

Hongjoong snorted, turning his back to Seonghwa. “When have I ever been rational?” 

“Lots of times,” Seonghwa said, standing as well. “Which is why this particular occurance is concerning.” 

“What does it matter if its rational or not?” Hongjoong demanded, turning to him with blazing eyes, that anger back and roaring. “Both of them end up with you dead. That means they’re not options. Eden told me to fucking watch your back, and he’s going to-” 

“This isn’t about Eden,” Seonghwa said, his voice the absolute epitome of assured. “This hasn’t been about what Eden told you for a while.” 

Hongjoong stared, his eyes flickering over Seonghwa’s face frantically, before he turned away once more. “Whatever,” he muttered, storming towards the bathroom. “Go back to the fucking agency. Get yourself killed and see if I fucking care.” 

The door slammed shut. 

Seonghwa shook where he stood. 

Would Hongjoong care? 

Clearly. 

And thoughts began to shift in the back of his mind, but Seonghwa shoved them away as he sat back on the bed, scrolling through the emails and reading them once more.

Even after everything they said. Everything they now knew about each other. Everything that had changed …. nothing was different. 

They still fought. They still yelled. They still weren’t listening. 

He pulled up the news. Yeosang had been doing a good job, because all he found were accounts of a gunshot firing, but nothing else saying that a man had died. 

There were speculations about whether this was related to the two other incidents of shots being fired. 

Moving around was dangerous. But if they stayed put, Seonghwa would begin to feel too much like a sitting duck. He needed to go somewhere. He just wanted to go back to the agency. 

He didn’t trust it. But the agency was the closest thing he had to a second home. Even if one of them had betrayed him. 

They weren’t being targeted anymore, they were being hunted. 

And Seonghwa and Hongjoong still could not seem to stop fighting. It wasn’t like their old fighting. It wasn’t as hateful, but just as sharp. Wasn’t as dark, but just as serious. It just seemed like they were destined to constantly be at each other’s throat. 

Like Yeosang when Wooyoung was being a dumbass and trying to sing show tunes while he was trying to work. Like Wooyoung when Yeosang tried to slap a hand over his mouth when his incessant talking was finally too much for  _ everyone’s  _ nerves. 

Bickering. Serious but not hateful. Just heated and violent. 

Seonghwa pressed hands to his eyes. That was not the point right now. The decisions he had to make were not involving his and Hongjoong’s relationship (which had always been a little.. Fucked up). He needed to weigh the options of staying here or going to the agency. 

It could be over so much faster if they went. 

But what if Hongjoong was right? What if there were more people? But where was the evidence for it, other than the fact that if one could turn, another could as well? 

_ I’m not going to risk you like that.  _

Seonghwa groaned, falling back on the bed and sighing heavily. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wished that this was something he could just stop thinking about, too. If only his entire life was as easy as kissing Hong-

Seonghwa stood, ruffling his hair harshly as he went to the door, tearing it open and walking out. He glanced around and saw a vending marching down the way, walking towards it quickly just to have something to do. He inserted a wrinkled dollar and grabbed the water bottle that fell, chugging half of it to try and chase the away the taste in his mouth. 

Stop thinking. Please. 

Sighing, he got another orange juice and walked back towards the hotel room, taking one last deep breath of fresh air before stepping into the- 

A body slammed into his hard enough he dropped both bottles, and he jerked back, ready to fucking snap, but Hongjoong stared at him, eyes wide. “Where the fuck did you-” His eyes fell on the bottles on the ground. He glared at Seonghwa, striking his chest harshly, making him wince. “Don’t just fucking run off like that without even fucking saying anything! You scared the shit out me- you left the fucking door wide open-” 

Seonghwa pushes them both further inside, and closed the door behind him, cocking an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who stormed out of here the other day by yourself?”

“You at least knew I  _ had  _ left,” Hongjoong snapped, rubbing at his face. “God, you’re an assshole.” 

And somehow. Hongjoong being the one to call him an asshole almost made him want to laugh. 

Seonghwa grabbed the orange juice bottle and pushed it into Hongjoong’s hands. He didn’t say a word, coming further into the room. Hongjoong had been worried-

“I think the best course of action,” Seonghwa said stiffly. “Is to wait until we hear back from Yeosang and Wooyoung. We’ll see what they think about everything, and if we decide it's worth the risk to go back, we’ll meet with the agency. Is that rational enough?” 

Hongjoong stared at him, hands wringing the bottle of orange juice tightly. “Fine,” he answered shortly, but not angrily. It was like there was something stuck in his throat. 

Seonghwa stared back at him. Hongjoong didn’t blink. 

“Will we ever be able to have a conversation without it turning into a fight?” Seonghwa asked. 

Hongjoong shrugged stiffly. “We  _ were  _ doing a pretty good job of it. Besides, fights aren’t necessarily bad. It’s just differing opinions- which you and I have in spades.” His expression sobered. “But I was serious Seonghwa- don’t get reckless. I’m not going to sit here and let you walk right into a shitstorm because you think it’s the best option.” 

Seonghwa felt a prickle of annoyance, but nothing compared to before. He shoved it down. He didn’t want to keep fighting. They had made a decision. Now all they could do was wait to hear from Yeosang and Wooyoung. 

“We’ll wait for word from Yeosang and Wooyoung,” he reaffirmed. 

“Assuming they know enough of what’s going on to know if someone else is twisted.” 

“Is there something you’re trying to work through right now?” Seonghwa demanded, staring at him in disbelief. “I don’t know what the fuck you want from me, Hongjoong, but you’re not being all that fucking helpful right now. Either suggest something yourself or stop shooting down each of my ideas with your fucking  _ pessimism _ .” 

Tension was high. Both of them were uncomfortable. Both of them were jittery. Both of them were struggling to tread water, but they kept kicking each other. 

Neither of them were on solid ground right now. Both were worried. Both were distracted with a million things including each other. 

Hongjoong’s chest puffed at the snap, but he held it in, eyes icy. “You keep talking about me being the confusing one, as if you were an open book yourself.” 

“ _ What _ ?”

“I don’t know what you want, either, Seonghwa!” Hongjoong said sharply, almost defensively. “Things were a lot fucking easier when you just told me to fuck off. Before we had to work together and compromise and shit. And then suddenly you’re-” He gestured uselessly- “you start acting as if you give a shit, but then you’re back to looking at me like you want to fucking shoot me, and I’m just as lost as you, Seonghwa.” 

They were no longer talking about the agency. The mission. 

This was another delicate thing being thrown to Seonghwa that he was expected to catch without breaking. And part of him wanted to just smack it out of the air and tell him to fucking focus but he reached his arms out instinctively for it. 

“I don’t want to shoot you,” Seonghwa said firmly. Sharply.  “And I’m sorry that I realized I was being a  _ shit person  _ and tried to change- really, I’m sorry that has inconvenienced you so much. I didn’t realize you were such a fan of me insulting you on a daily basis.” 

Hongjoong lifted his hands, as if he were grabbing Seonghwa’s neck from a distance, looking so frustrated. Good. That made two of them. “Just-” 

“How do you want me to act, then, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked, crossing his arms. “Because clearly cordial behavior isn’t something you’re looking for.”

“How the hell do we continually take one step forward and three steps back?” Hongjoong demanded, throwing his hands down. 

“I’m not even sure what the fuck we’re arguing about anymore,” Seonghwa admitted, huffing harshly. “But you suddenly started losing your shit-” 

“You’re losing your shit, too!” He snapped.

“I’m just trying to stay the fuck alive, Hongjoong!”

“And you’re giving me fucking whiplash with your mood swings through the whole thing!” 

Seonghwa had to scoff. “What fucking mood swings?” he demanded, standing.    
“I’m only responding to what  _ you  _ do! What the fuck do you  _ want  _ me to do, then, Hongjoong?”

“ _ Stop giving me hope _ !”  

Hongjoong stared at him, eyes blazing and fists shaking at his sides, chest heaving. 

Seonghwa was still. 

Everything was silent. Even the blood in his veins. 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly. “Either go back to fucking hating me or don’t. Stop this fucking back and forth game.  _ Pick one _ ,” he spat. “I’m fucking tired of games.” 

_ What fucking hope?  _

_ What fucking game? _

The one that Hongjoong was playing? Flirtatious and serious and gentle- 

Hongjoong didn’t seriously see the same issue with Seonghwa, did he? 

But they did both tend to swing back and forth together- both of them reaching and then withdrawing and hissing when the other got too close. They had been playing as mirror images of each other, hadn’t they? 

Was Seonghwa not that obvious? 

“I don’t hate you.” It wasn’t meant to come out as placating, but it sort of did- softer and smoother than he intended. 

Hongjoong looked ready to scoff, but he held it back. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” 

“Well, I’m sorry, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said- quick but not sharp, a dull blade dragging along skin. “But it’s kind of hard to flip a fucking switch when you spend eight years cursing someone’s existence. I told you- I’m fucking  _ trying _ . You can’t sit there and get pissy that I’m not holding your hand when it’s only been-  _ what-  _ a fucking week since we last wanted to kill each other?” 

Too much. Too soon. And Hongjoong somehow wanted more. When Seonghwa was already drowning in his own thoughts and confusion. 

This hotel room was too small. The entire planet was too small for them and their equally boisterous souls and mouths, clashing at every given opportunity. 

Their too horrendously similar souls and mouths. 

Maybe the issue wasn’t that they were too different. 

Maybe the problem was that they were too similar. 

Hongjoong frowned, rubbing at his face before he stared at him blankly, as if he was suddenly too tired to be angry anymore. “Seonghwa, I-” He broke off, biting the inside of his cheek. “You-” 

The words wouldn’t come. 

And for several minutes, neither of them knew what to do. Did they keep fighting? Storm off for the second time that day? God forbid it be simple, whatever they did. Nothing could ever be simple. 

“We wait for Yeosang and Wooyoung,” Seonghwa muttered, turning away and walking to the bed. “We’ll figure out anything else after that.” He sat on the bed. “I’m tired,” He muttered, scrubbing his face. He wondered if he should try and find some coffee, but he didnt feel like moving at the moment. “Fuck,” he breathed, everything just too heavy on his shoulders and mind. 

He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. 

He heard silence. And then Hongjoong sat at the foot of the bed, leaning against the baseboard. They were facing each other, but neither met the other’s eyes. 

The silence was awkward and heavy, voices still echoing and bouncing around their heads. Everything from this morning was too much. 

But he supposed after the shitstorm of last night, there really was nothing else that could happen. That kiss could not be swept under the rug. And too much needed to be explained to understand it. 

And somehow he was still confused. 

Neither did anything. And Seonghwa watched the shadows of the room grow. Time ticked on. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Tic-

“I don’t… enjoy it.” 

Seonghwa jumped slightly at the sudden confession that fell from Hongjoong’s lips quietly. He tilted his head, his neck aching after so long in one position. Hongjoong stared at the blankets. 

More delicate passes. More terrified receiving. 

This truly was the first time they were speaking to each other. Not dancing around each other, not prodding and poking, not setting out a feeler and then jerking away when you were discovered. They were standing their ground today. They kept coming back. They were sticking to this silent, hidden decision to understand. 

“Sleeping with strangers every night,” he said carefully. “Twisting myself into a knot just to please them… It’s fun. It’s funny to think about and do. But I don’t…  _ like  _ it. I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t a mission.” 

“I thought you slept with people outside of work, too?” Seonghwa asked, too tired to try and think about what the fuck was happening. He finally stopped fucking thinking. 

“Objects in motion tend to stay in motion,” Hongjoong muttered with a small shrug. “It’s easier to just do it all the time, rather than try and pick it back up every few days.” 

And Seonghwa remembered wondering if Hongjoong was even capable of leaving that part of him behind. Apparently, he was. But he chose not to. For a legitimate reason. 

“I lost my virginity to this job, did you know?” Hongjoong asked, voice dull. “The first time I ever had sex was with a drug lord’s secretary.” He hummed to himself. “I had a couple girlfriends and one boyfriend… but nothing serious. Just silly kids kissing to pass time.” 

Seonghwa stared passively, wondering where this was going. He thought he should interject- maybe add that he had had sex before this job, but he remained silent. 

Hongjoong drew one leg up to his chest, staring at the jean fabric of his knee. “What I’m say is… I’ve never been…  _ close _ with someone, in any other way but sexual. I never learned that. Training didn’t think it was important. It didn’t matter how to understand subtext, as long as you got them to talk. So now, all I have is knowledge of how to twist and manipulate people with my body.” He picked at his clothes. “You said I should find someone outside of work… I don’t know how. I don’t know how to try and get to know someone without automatically trying to change myself or them. I don’t know how to separate training and pleasure.” 

Seonghwa could… understand that. It was part of why he refused relationships outside of work. It was too much to try and separate those two things. Like how it was impossible for him not to brush for his gun each time they entered a new space. Impossible to enter a room without immediately scouting for threats. He couldn’t leave behind that training anymore than he could his agent instinct. 

“Except you,” he said quietly, glancing at Seonghwa. “Somehow… I could always be myself around you. Or- at least, I knew which parts of myself I was being. I didn’t have to worry that I was changing. I knew I was being genuine. And you were too. It was like… knowing you were like me… kept me in line. Made it easier to know what was real and what wasn’t.” 

It sounded like a confession. But Seonghwa didn’t know what the shoe being dropped was. 

“But the point of this…” Hongjoong went on slowly. “Is that I’m still trying to figure out… you. How to… interact with you when I’m not threatening to sleep with you.” 

Seonghwa almost chuckled at it, but he was silent. 

“I really was intrigued by you, that first night.” Hongjoong spared him a glance with crystalline eyes. “But I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to interact with you other than… how I did.” 

It was like a punch to his sternum, choking his lungs. 

“I knew you hated it, but I didn’t know how else I could interact with you. And if you were yelling at me… at least you were speaking to me. And even if you were rolling your eyes and sneering at me… at least you were acknowledging me.” He huffed. “I’m fucking pathetic… Throwing myself in your path like a fucking desperate teenager, just hoping…” He trailed off, shaking his head sharply. 

Hoping. 

What the hell was going through his mind right now? Throwing himself- as if he had seen Seonghwa and been starstruck and just wanted a glimpse of his attentions- 

“Why did you want my attention?” Seonghwa asked, feeling like he was stepping out onto thin ice that was already cracking beneath him. “Did you want me that bad?” 

Hongjoong chuckled. Soft. Sad. Bitter. He gave Seonghwa a long glance, nodding. “Yeah,” he said honestly.

They were being honest. It was all honest. No more lies. 

“But not like anyone else. It was different. I chased after you because I thought you were hot as fuck.” He chuckled but it died quickly. “But somehow…” He shrugged, curling his arms around himself, trying for nonchalance. “Somehow things changed. And I didn’t know how to react. So I just kept doing what I had always done- pissing you off and waiting for the retaliation that made you look at me.” 

“Why?” Seonghwa asked, voice a little thin as he stared at Hongjoong, as if seeing him for the first time for the thousandth time. “Why was I special?” 

How was Seonghwa- in all his anger and bitterness- special to him? 

Hongjoong snorted gently. “Hell if I know,” he chuckled. “I was an idiot. But at the very least, I knew that you hated me too much for anything to really come of it.”  His smile faded slightly. “And then at my apartment… suddenly you stopped retaliating. You stopped yelling. And you started… not doing that. And I was…” He chuckled. “I was a fucking idiot, I let myself think-” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Anyway, you changed and threw off our entire dynamic.” 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. He felt like he was watching a movie, everything happening outside of his control, like they had predestined responses written out for them to follow. “Well, you started acting like an actual human being rather than someone only interested in sleeping with me so you can imagine I was thrown off.”

Their  words had lost their bite. It was almost playful now. Almost teasing. Like before. But not quite. It was heavy. Hard. Painful. 

Everything was raw and bruised and they kept poking each other. 

Hongjoong hummed, almost amused. “Well, I finally had your attention for more than two minutes. I was around you more.  I didn’t feel the need to garner as much attention as I could. Especially considering everything.” 

Seonghwa’s stomach was flipping violently. His voice was calm. “You almost make it sound like you had a crush on me.” 

Hongjoong only hummed. He stared at Seonghwa with passive eyes and quirked, wistful lips. 

Seonghwa’s heart was slowly dropping to his stomach, burning in the acid. His voice almost shook.  “Hongjoong. It almost sounds as if you had a crush on me,” he repeated. 

Hongjoong rolled his lips, his eyes shining but shaking as he stared at Seonghwa. “That would be completely idiotic of me.” 

_ I was a fucking idiot.  _

_ I was an idiot. _

_ No. Just a fucking idiot apparently.  _

Seonghwa straightened, his heart crawling from his stomach until it was choking him. “Hongjoong.” 

His voice came out small. 

Sacred. 

Because this was the appropriate time. This was the time to hide under the blankets and wait for it to go away because Hongjoong-

Was he kidding? Did he know that Seonghwa- 

“Why did you ask to kiss me last night.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a demand. It was alarmingly calm but vibrating beneath the surface, like the beginning thrums of an earthquake. . It was Seonghwa trying to keep his voice from exploding after eight years of anger and shoving and fighting and so much exhaustion-

Hongjoong looked blank. Like he no longer cared what the consequences were. Like he had given up running and dodging and hiding and lying. Like he was Seonghwa. 

Just tired of thinking so much. All the time. Never just letting go and fucking  _ doing  _ something. 

Hongjoong watched him carefully. “Why do you think?” he asked quietly.    
“Hongjoong.” A warning. A plea. A something. 

This was dangerous land. Uncharted territory. A mine field without a map. Mostly because Seonghwa hadn’t even noticed he was walking towards it. He blinked and suddenly someone was telling him not to move, to just stand very still, don’t make it worse. 

He had wandered in, somehow not seeing any signs along the way, but suddenly he stepped on something that went ‘chink’ and he was terrified to lift his foot and set off an explosion. 

Hongjoong hummed, unbothered, and set his chin to rest on his knee. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe I thought it would be fun.” 

“That’s not the reason.” Firm. Sharp. Like a blade pressed to your neck. Scared. Trembling. 

Hongjoong chuckled deep in his chest. “Then why don’t you tell me what you think it is.” 

Seonghwa flexed his hand. “I already told you what it sounded like.” 

Hongjoong hummed, interested, his eyes still watching Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong couldn’t 

There was no way. Seonghwa was just that sort of desperate sad that he was thinking of anything. 

Hongjoong stood from the bed, turning away, and Seonghwa opened his mouth to call him back, to tell him that he couldn’t just fucking leave in the middle of such a conversation, but then Hongjoong turned around the edge of the bed, heading towards Seonghwa. 

“You were nice,” Hongjoong said quietly, pausing at the foot of the bed and frowning gently. “I knew you were. Even if you weren’t to me… I saw you. I knew what it looked like when you smiled.” His hand trailed the baseboard. “You were… well… noble,” he said, snickering sadly to himself. “You cared. You gave a shit about people. You gave more than a shit about people. You cared too much-  _ so _ much, Seonghwa.” He glanced his way, lips twitching. “And it was mesmerizing, seeing someone like that.” 

Hongjoong took another step towards him. 

Seonghwa felt like his internal organs were bleeding out and shutting down. And he was powerless to do anything but sit by and let it happen. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it. 

“You were resilient and so self-assured. I knew you found me attractive,” he said. “That’s just a fact. It’s normal. But you weren’t like the others.” His eyes glanced down at his socked feet. “You didn’t leap at me. You didn’t… didn’t see me just as something to be fucked. Maybe you didn’t like me at all. Maybe all you thought I was good for was a quick fuck. But you didn’t do it.  Maybe you hated me. But you at least you saw  _ me _ .” He chuckled, and it sounded a little weak, like he might be shedding tears. “How fucking pathetic. Seeking out someone how hated me, just to feel like I was worth something.” 

He shook his head. Another step. 

And Seonghwa was seeing eight years flashing before his eyes in a whirlwind of misunderstands and dancing and presumptions and pushing and shoving and getting a rise out of each other and glares and smirks and a confidence that was a disguise and an anger that was an excuse. 

“And one day…I didn’t mean it...” Hongjoong frowned, as if he had confused himself. “I told you: ‘There are few things I’d prefer than for you to be on your knees.’” 

Seonghwa didn’t remember it, the flirt lost within the years of anger. But Hongjoong apparently did.

“And I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want that.” Another step towards him, and there was only two more steps between them- Seonghwa wanting to back up, but feeling like someone was pinning his limbs down. “I quipped again. I didn’t mean it. I stopped meaning it, Seonghwa. I stopped wanting you like that. And I remember thinking one day... I wonder if his hair is soft.” 

Another step. Only a single one between them. 

Hongjoong was holding his heart in his hand, smiling at it sadly, and holding it out to Seonghwa who didn’t know what to do with it. Did he take it? Did he tell him to put it back? 

Did he take his out too? 

“I looked at you and I felt things I had  _ never  _ felt before,” Hongjoong breathed, blinking and his eyes shining. “So many years. I didn’t know what to do. I knew that nothing could happen. You hated me too much for it.  So I kept going as I had.” He took a deep breath. “And then you were outside my apartment door. And suddenly I was given all your attention. I didn’t have to fight. We weren’t seeing each for five minutes, trying to piss each other off as much as possible. I had you all to myself- all of you.” 

The next step made their knees brush, Hongjoong staring down at Seonghwa with eyes that looked fragile enough to shatter if he blinked. 

It hurt to meet them. But Seonghwa didn’t look away. Hongjoong deserved better than that. 

“And you weren’t… you stopped yelling. You stopped glaring.” Hongjoong huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I saw parts of you I thought didn’t exist.” 

That made two of them. 

A small hand lifted from Hongjoong’s side, reaching towards Seonghwa slowly, giving him time to pull away. 

“And I…” Cool fingers brushed through Seonghwa’s hair, reminiscent of sleep. “I couldn’t fucking take it,” he whispered. “You were right there. We weren’t yelling. And I convinced myself that maybe… maybe it was possible. Maybe we could…” Hongjoong shook his head. “I felt like I was going insane.” 

One of Hongjoong’s knees planted on the bed, making the springs creak, but neither of them looked away. 

This was not in the training. 

This was not any technique Seonghwa knew. 

This was just Hongjoong. 

_ This _ was Hongjoong. 

“When we fought, right before Yeosang and Wooyoung got here… I was so angry at myself,” he whispered. “So angry I thought you could ever change your opinion of me. And I was just so tired of the performances and lies. I was so tired… And then you came back and proved to be the better of us… you didn’t look at my evals. You could have. I never would have known. But not only did you not look… you told me you thought about it,” He chuckled, and when he blinked, something raced down his cheek. “Your stupid, mesmerizing noble pride.” 

His hand moved through Seonghwa’s hair, ending at the back of his skull and scratching there gently. A tiny shiver ran through his chest. 

“I threw caution to the wind and you-” He laughed. “You agreed. You didn’t shove me away. You didn’t tell me to fuck off, you-” Hongjoong blinked rapidly, clearly trying to keep something back. “I could almost imagine… that it was real.” 

He leaned forward, their foreheads brushing, and Seonghwa kept his eyes locked. Hongjoong looked like he was staring a million miles away and boring straight  into Seonghwa’s soul. “You want meaning, Seonghwa,” he said quietly. “I want  _ real _ .” He wet his lips. “You were the most genuine person I have ever met. You said exactly what was one your mind, regardless of what it was. You never hid anything. If nothing else, I always knew exactly what you felt.” He swallowed. “You kept  _ me _ real. Even if in the surface I lied.” 

His eyes flickered around Seonghwa’s face, like this was the last time he was going to get to see it. 

His heart was slowly twisting in a vice. 

He couldn’t breathe as weight after weight was dropped from Hongjoong’s lips. 

“You cared,” Hongjoong whispered, one hand tracing down Seonghwa’s cheek. 

It wasn’t provocative. It was tender. Gentle. Quiet. 

“You  _ stopped _ .” Hongjoong quirked his lips sadly. “We aren’t really given the option of saying no, are we? We don’t get the luxury of not feeling like it, right? Being able to say that… having that power, to decide what I wanted- what  _ both _ of us wanted… it’s intoxicating. You listened. You  _ stopped _ .” 

Seonghwa’s gut was struck. Hongjoong delivered blow after blow and Seonghwa could think of nothing else to do but sit there and take it. 

“But you yell,” he whispered, their noses brushing. “And you fight. And we keep dancing back and forth, both of us too afraid to really say it. Say  _ anything _ .” He wet his lips again. “So I want a final answer,” Hongjoong murmured, almost sounding pleading. “I want  the truth- all of it.” One hand rested on Seonghwa’s shoulder as he leaned forward. 

Hongjoong’s fingers were gentle against his skin. 

He swallowed. 

“All you have to say is ‘stop,’” he breathed, waiting for a beat. 

Seonghwa didn’t speak. 

He wasn’t even sure he could speak. 

But he knew that the words stuck on his tongue were not ‘stop.’ He didn’t know what they were, but they weren’t that. 

Despite the confusion. Despite the pain. Despite everything… Seonghwa couldn’t say he  _ wanted _ this the same way Hongjoong did. Hongjoong’s ran too deep. Too long. But he knew he didn’t want to stop it. 

Hongjoong waited another beat. 

And leaned forward, his eyes fluttering closed. 

And it was different. Nothing like the others. Nothing like any other. 

There was no pretense. No confusion. No mind-numbing panic about what did he mean, what did he want, what was he doing- 

Seonghwa knew what this was what it meant. . Even if he had never felt it, even if he had never seen it, he knew what this was. 

He knew, inherently, the gentle hand massaging his neck gently, the soft fingers threaded through his hair, the languid lips against his. 

It wasn’t the closed lip kiss of last night. 

It wasn’t the heated kiss of earlier. 

It was different. Warm and firm and shifting and burning slowly. It wasn’t a spark, it wasn’t a flare, it wasn’t fireworks- it was a slowly smouldering coal, gaining strength with each soft breath breathed into the flame. 

There was still no tugging, no panting, no speed to it. 

Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered closed as Hongjoong kissed him, hands sliding up until he held Seonghwa’s face gently, hands shaking slightly as he guided his face further up, mouth opening and inviting- 

It was so fucking slow. Gentle. Warm. Encompassing. 

It wasn’t heat burning from the inside out, threatening to send them into ashes. 

Seonghwa’s hands caught Hongjoong’s waist weakly as he stopped thinking. There was nothing to think about anymore. Not right now. 

It was agonizingly slow, but exactly the pace it should be. Seonghwa felt no urge to deepen it. Hongjoong made no attempt to move any further than the simple press of lips and occasional lick or bite that went nowhere. 

Seonghwa felt like someone was slowly pushing a hot coal into his chest, spreading to his fingertips and touching parts of Seonghwa he hadn’t realized existed. Parts he had never had the luxury to explore. 

Hongjoong’s hands dropped, his arms sliding around Seonghwa’s neck, leaning forward until their chests touched, until Seonghwa was holding him to his chest, Hongjoong supporting himself by his arm on Seonghwa’s neck. 

It felt like hours. Just time passing them by. 

What was he doing? 

Was this an answer to a question Hongjoong never asked? Seonghwa didn’t know. 

He didn’t know what all of it meant. He didn’t know if Hongjoong’s feelings were what he felt in his own chest. 

But he did know that something was building in his chest, pressing against his eyes. 

It felt like something so much more. 

It felt like something Seonghwa had never had. 

It felt like something he wanted. 

It felt like nothing he had ever been given in all the years of his life. 

It felt like something he’d never feel again. 

One of his hands left Hongjoong’s waist, threading through his long hair firmly, and Hongjoong made a soft noise in the back of his throat. 

Not a moan. Nothing deep and wanting, followed by hard presses and hips canting forward. 

A soft noise, like a cat being pet. Something a little desperate. A little scared. 

What the hell was Seonghwa doing? 

Somehow, in the span of less than 24 hours, he had completely lost every grip he had on his and Hongjoong’s relationship. 

But somehow, he was in no hurry to grasp it again. 

He was tired of fighting. 

He was tired of fake. 

He was tired of thinking and worrying. 

He was tired of everything. 

He just wanted to be able to feel something. Not pleasure. Not arousal. He wanted something meaningful. 

Something more. 

His cheeks were wet again. 

Seonghwa brushed against Hongjoong’s cheek, trying to gather the tears and push them away. 

Hongjoong’s cheeks were dry. 

Seonghwa pulled away, both of them breathing heavily as Hongjoong frowned, then his eyes trailing over Seonghwa’s cheeks, his eyes softening as calloused fingertips brushed the moisture away. “What does this mean?” he whispered hoarsely. 

Seonghwa swallowed, not even remembering the last time he had cried. But the pressure in his chest was desperate to go somewhere. “I don’t know,” he breathed, sucking in a sharp breath. 

Hongjoong hummed quietly, stroking his cheek. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You don’t have to know.” 

He didn’t have to know?

He didn’t… have to know? 

What did it matter  _ what _ he was feeling? All that mattered was that he was  _ feeling _ . For the first time in years, he  _ felt _ something. 

Both of them were still. Silent. Hongjoong staring at Seonghwa with crystalline eyes that shone as if he had reached up and plucked a star from the sky for him. 

“I want something real, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispered, voice shaking. “I want more.” He swallowed, pressing a gently kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I want it with you.” 

Seonghwa always had a tight grip on the reins. 

It was dangerous to let them go. It was a death wish. 

He had lost the reins somewhere, miles back, not even noticing, and quite frankly, not really caring. What good had they done him before? He had no more knowledge, no more control before than he did now. 

No lies. 

Hongjoong kissed his cheek. 

No pretending. 

The corner of his eye. 

No hiding. 

A gentle brush against his lips, resting there, not touching, just breathing. 

“I want it with you, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong repeated, his eyes closed, as if looking were make everything cease to exist. 

Not just wanted it. 

Wanted it with Seonghwa. Specifically. 

The thought made his head spin weakly. 

Did Seonghwa want that with Hongjoong? 

An agent. An equal. Someone too much like himself, someone so much different than himself. 

Someone bruised. 

Someone shining. 

Someone terrified. 

Someone real. 

This was something Seonghwa had been unaware of until a few minutes ago. 

(In a language he didn’t speak.) 

Hongjoong had been holding it firmly for eight years. Hiding it. Protecting it. Hating it. Guarding it. 

And here he was, holding it out to Seonghwa carefully. Like a bird with a broken wing. Seonghwa had one arm reaching out for it already. 

Breakfast. Touches. Glances. Conversations. Laughs. Relying. 

Feelings. 

Seonghwa’s throat was glued shut. He touched Hongjoong’s cheek softly, his eyes closing as he leaned into the touch. 

_ I’ve never been… close with someone, in any other way but sexual.  _

The hand in Hongjoong’s hair scratched at his scalp gingerly, carefully, and there was that small noise again. That gentle purr in the back of his throat, as if discovering something he had never felt before. 

_ I never learned that.  _

Seonghwa never learned it, either. Every part of him was scared of this being… not what he thought. Scared of sinking. Scared of all his paranoia being right. Scared and looking back and seeing all the things he was missing. 

He didn’t know how to make something like this work. 

But neither did Hongjoong. 

If they failed, it would be a spectacular disaster. 

Hongjoong shifted his cheek, feeling the soft skin against the rough skin of Seonghwa’s hand, as if he just wanted to know what it felt like. 

Time had stopped around them. 

That had never happened before. 

Just two men. Two idiots. Two people. 

So much confusion. So many lies. So much manipulating. 

Hongjoong pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. It was intimate. Private. As if Seonghwa himself wasn’t even supposed to see it. 

This wasn’t manipulating. Training said nothing of this. Seonghwa didn’t have a back up plan for this. Seonghwa didn’t know what the manual said about this. 

And that somehow made his heart swell. 

Seonghwa kissed him gently. Hongjoong swallowed, tilting his head to the side- not deepening the kiss, but making it more comfortable. 

Careful. Exploring. Hesitant. 

But so, so sure. So absolutely convinced. 

Hongjoong’s lips were soft. He hummed, and that pressure in Seonghwa’s chest pressed against his rib cage again, making it hard to breathe. 

It was scarily, startlingly, horrifically easy to lose himself. 

It was so easy to only feel Hongjoong’s tiny, warm body pressing against him- not seeking pleasure but proximity. As if just being near Seonghwa was enough. 

As if that was all he wanted, was to be near him. 

It hurt. 

It felt like a knife to his ribs. 

It hurt. It made him want to pull away. 

It was too much. 

But he was terrified that maybe he wouldn’t get this back. 

Even if it didn’t last, he wanted this for as long as he could have it. 

Hongjoong pulled away from the kids Seonghwa initiated- for the first time, unprompted. His choice, his decision. Seonghwa’s chest was heaving silently as he stared down at him, cheeks flushed. “What did that mean?” he breathed. 

Seonghwa didn’t know. 

“I don’t know.” 

Hongjoong’s hand flexed on his shoulder. “Was it real?’ 

Seonghwa swallowed, nodding slowly. Whatever it was, it felt real. At the very least, Seonghwa didn’t think there was anyway he could fake the boulder on his chest. 

Hongjoong breathed what sounded like a sound of relief. His head fell forward until it rested in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, breath puffing against his skin. 

Seonghwa swallowed thickly, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. 

Hongjoong pressed his lips against Seonghwa’s neck gently. 

Not sucking. Not kissing. Not heated. Not sultry. 

Just a gentle press of lips that was there and then gone. 

As if he just wanted to touch. Just wanted to be able to know that he could. 

Too intimate. Too much. Too fast. Too tender. Too caring. Too fast for where they were. Too much- 

But he couldn’t push him away. Couldn’t try and stop it. Was scared to try and stop it. Was terrified it would stop on its own. 

Seonghwa squeezed his waist gently- just a bare pressure against him- and Hongjoong breathed out quick against his neck, and Seonghwa could feel the gentle curl of his lips. 

“Would you call me crazy…” He trailed off, as if he forgot. Or as if he was too tired to finish the thought. 

“If you did what?” Seonghwa asked, heart pounding and blood rushing and freezing. 

Hongjoong’s lips brushed his skin again, and then were gone. Not teasing. Comfortable. “If I said I wanted this?” 

Soft. Testing. Curious. 

“Wanted what?”

Another press of lips. There. Gone. 

“To stay like this.” 

Like this? With Hongjoong in his arms? With just the two of them in the world? With real? With meaning? With… each other? 

Being with Hongjoong? Like… long-term? The two of them? Outside of work. In spite of work. 

Because of work. 

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered up to the ceiling, a laugh stuck in his throat to try and release pressure. 

“I…” He huffed, and Hongjoong remained silent in his arms. Feelings like this… Having this as his own? He swallowed. 

What would it feel like… coming home and seeing Hongjoong? The thought was so disgustingly domestic, Seonghwa had to laugh breathily. (That didn’t stop the rock from lodging in his chest.) Hongjoong kissed his skin once more. Seonghwa swallowed thickly. “I think I would-” 

Glass shattered. 

Hongjoong was already in his arms. 

By the time he would let go and push him away, it would be too late. 

So he didn’t let go. 

Seonghwa tightened his grip on Hongjoong and twisted, his back facing the window, shoving his head down against his chest. He pushed himself forward,  Hongjoong hidden within in his arms as the sound of bullets hitting drywall broke the silence around them. 

Both of them cried out. 

Hongjoong in alarm. 

Seonghwa in pain. 

He jerked forward, his back a familiar burning fire, Hongjoong struggling to shove Seonghwa off of him, but Seonghwa kept him wrapped in his arms, teeth gritted as he kept shifting them forward ( he let them both fall) until they both tumbled to the floor, out of view of the window, hidden by the bed. 

Seonghwa cried out as the impact jarred him. His back numb with white fire. 

Hongjoong was yelling something. 

Seonghwa couldn’t hear around the roaring in his ears and the darkness encroaching on his vision. 

Don’t you dare pass out, he threatened himself, trying to gain the strength back from the shock to move. It felt like he was paralyzed. 

You have to move. You have to run. 

Fingers were bruising his wrist. Words making his ears ring. 

_ You have to get up _ . 

Bullets painted the opposite wall. 

Blood stained the carpet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I’m sorry for the cliffhanger but the chapter was sooo long already I’m sorry ㅠ_ㅠ  
> But I hope it didn’t suck!   
> And, as mentioned I did make a Twitter and curious cat! (Neither of which I know how to use so be patient with me for a while~~)   
> Twitter: @_SinisterSound_  
> (And I think my curious cat is under the same name?? Let me know if that’s not true and I’ll try and figure out this confounded technology lol)   
> So feel free to ask any questions/ make any comments/ or just send me a funny picture! I may not be the fastest at responding but I’ll do my best!   
> Thank you for reading, and I will see you all in the next chapter!   
> -SS


	5. A Shitty Fucking Result

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!!  
> I’m back, I think it sucks, but I’ve already taken too long with it ㅠ_ㅠ I’m sorry nothing really happens, and it’s boring but have it anyway! Sorry to make you wait for something so lackluster!  
> Let me know what you think!  
> -SS

_ -up, -hwa!  _

Seonghwa felt the urge to scream rise up in his chest, but he swallowed it, shoving it down beneath the pain pulsing along his entire form. 

_ Fuck- -stard, ge- the f- up! _

Seonghwa tried, he was trying, Jesus Christ was he  _ trying _ . 

His hand twitched against the carpet that his eyes stared at, half-lidded and unfocused. 

It was like landing on your back from a three story fall- paralyzed and the breath knocked from him as he struggled just to breathe, just to move- 

The cacophony around him died out. His fingers curled slightly against the short fibers. 

Get up. You have to get up. 

How did he do that, exactly? 

A hand slapped his face. It was hardly violent- not a hitman kicking over a dead man’s body- but it jarred him, breath slamming back into his lungs as his teeth grit together. 

Fuck. 

“Seo-hwa, if yo- -on’t look a- m-  _ right fucking now _ !”

He shifted his eyes towards the blurred noise, like listening from underwater.His ears rang. Hongjoong was laying on the ground beside him, and for a horrifying moment, Seonghwa thought he had been shot, but he met Seonghwa’s eyes and breathed out a hard sigh. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered into the carpet before lifting his head again, eyes harder, but fragile. “Where the fuck were you hit?” he asked, leaning to try and see Seonghwa’s back. He shifted over when Seonghwa didn’t answer. 

He didn’t know. Everything hurt. Everything was fiery and numb, like flame licking at skin until all your nerve endings were burned off. His entire back could be riddled with holes for all he knew. 

Careful not to rise above the bed, Hongjoong moved over, lifting himself up onto his arms to peer at Seonghwa’s back. 

He felt a sort of dull pressure- like poking at memory foam- here and there and- 

The cry that left Seonghwa’s throat was neither voluntary nor expected, tearing from his chest as it felt like a thin dagger was stabbed into a spot just at the dip of his waist on his back. 

“Fuck,” Hongjoong hissed, dropping onto the floor again. “Okay, that’s a lot of blood, we need-” 

Bullets cut him off, and Seonghwa’s eyes slammed shut against the loud noise that seemed to vibrate the blood in his veins. Hongjoong was cursing loudly beside him. 

Seonghwa felt tired. And if he passed out, he likely wouldn’t feel all of the pain currently running along each of his nerves. His leg twitched, making him physically bite his tongue to keep from crying out again as it moved the muscles in his back. 

Silence. Where were the bullets?

“We need first aid,” Hongjoong muttered, shifting onto his elbows. “Stay-” 

“Stop,” Seonghwa bit out, trying not to move as feeling and sensation slowly filtered back into limbs. It was better when he couldn’t move. “Them first.” Holy fuck, his back hurt. 

Hongjoong stared at him for a moment, not understanding. 

“Take them out first,” Seonghwa demanded between his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath that filled his lungs and lifted his back which fucking  _ hurt-  _ “You’ll never be able to treat me while they’re fucking shooting at us.” 

“They have a fucking sniper, I have a handgun,” Hongjoong reminded him, and Seonghwa wished he could see his face, instead of his shoulder, but he couldn’t even shift his eyes. 

“There’s nowhere for them to-  _ fuck-  _ perch.” He took small, short breaths. “The only place they can be is the roof across from us. You can track that shot, can’t you?” 

Maybe it was teasing. It was hard to make out through the hissed breaths and blood he could feel slipping down his skin. 

“That’s fucking insane!” Hongjoong snapped. “I’m getting the first aid-” 

He began to move and Seonghwa’s hand jerked forward a couple of inches. He didn’t even touch Hongjoong, but the other froze as if Seonghwa had him chained down. Seonghwa swallowed, and his mouth tasted metallic. “Mission first,” he said icily. 

“Fuck the miss-” 

“ _ Hongjoong _ ,” he croaked as loudly as he could, the pressure flexing his muscles, and he had to take a second to breathe through the fucking pain. “There are people around this hotel,” he reminded him roughly. “Stop the threat. Take him out.” 

“I don’t even have any cover!” 

Seonghwa’s fingers curled into a loose fist. “Then you’d better make one shot count.” 

It was stupid. It was suicidal. 

It was their job. 

But Jesus fucking Christ did it fucking hurt enough to make him bite his cheek to bleeding to stop from crying out with every pulse of blood shooting through his veins. 

His head fucking spinning from the pain. 

Seonghwa wanted to ignore the gunshots. He wanted to succumb to the pain and just let go, but he clung to the edge of consciousness like he was hanging over a cliff. It was easier with one thing on his mind: missions. Finish the missions. Hongjoong needed to take that fucker out. 

The opposite roof was probably over a hundred yards away, the handgun would be reaching its limit as far as accuracy was concerned, they had no cover, they had no time, Hongjoong had only one shot at a time, at a target that could fire rapidly and accurately- 

Sounded like they were both going to die. 

Or maybe that was the bullet wound talking. 

Seonghwa’s breaths caught in his throat, tearing out in carefully hidden noises that still escaped. Composure was hard to keep when each breath shifted the metal inside him. 

Hongjoong cursed lowly, breathing harshly, before huffing. “Fine, you fucking noble bastard.” 

And as quickly as he could, pressed low to the floor, Hongjoong tore off his shirt. 

Seonghwa almost demanded that now was the time, but all he did was shift closer to Seonghwa, expression grim. “Brace yourself,” he warned, and that was all Seonghwa had time to do as he pressed the shirt against his back. 

For a moment, Seonghwa just blacked out, his vision clearly as he panted, sweat dripping off his forehead and a searing throbbing in his back. 

“I can’t stay hold it down, but you’re bleeding too much to leave it open,” Hongjoong said, voice coming from the end of a tunnel as he pulled away, leaving a light pressure against the fire on Seonghwa’s back. “Hopefully it’ll keep debris out of it, too.” 

His entire body was throbbing and Jesus Christ, it just hurt so fucking bad. There was no way to keep still enough to soothe it. 

All of this was happening too fucking fast, could it slow down just enough for Seonghwa to get his breath back? 

Seonghwa’s hand was forced open, the handgun pushed into his palm and his fingers closed around it, shaking from the pain beating with every pump of his heart. “If you fucking bleed out while I’m dealing with this asshole, I swear to God, I will never forgive you,” Hongjoong hissed, pulling away. 

It sounded different to Seonghwa. 

“Gun-” 

“The other is on the TV stand, I’m grabbing that one,” Hongjoong said, and from where Seonghwa laid, he could see Hongjoong crawl along the ground, and the silence continued. He waited, but no more bullets rained. He took a large breath, shifting along the floor before reaching up and snatching it, falling it back to the ground as a single shot fired, shattering the screen of the TV. 

Seonghwa wanted to move. To help. But he currently could barely keep the hold on the gun in his hand. (He didn’t know why Hongjoong gave it to him, he could hardly squeeze it hard enough to pull the trigger,) 

His leg twitched again, and the knife-agony shoved between his ribs was almost enough to make him black out. He felt weak, and wanted to know just how much blood he was fucking losing. His nerves were shot, random parts of him twitching and jarring his muscles that screamed for Seonghwa to just pass the fuck out. 

Hongjoong waited, bated breaths, before shifting towards the window, and Seonghwa lost sight of him. 

And it wasn’t until he lost sight of him that Seonghwa realized just how dangerous and suicidal this whole thing was. 

He almost called Hongjoong back, almost gave into the urge that rose into his throat, begging to be released. He couldn’t see what was happening, couldn’t help, couldn’t stand it- But he didn’t. Because the mission came first. And Hongjoong couldn’t do it while back here with Seonghwa’s uselessly bleeding form. 

He tried to force the fear down, shove it down into its place that it resided during missions, but things were different, it was  _ Hongjoong _ . 

It was Hongjoong. 

They hadn’t figured each other yet. They were taking stumbling steps together, bumping into each other and stepping on toes, but they were trying. They were growing- 

Hongjoong couldn’t die. Seonghwa couldn’t die. They were… 

They were trying for more. Hongjoong had asked a question, Seonghwa had given an answer, no matter how hesitant or confused it was. 

He didn’t want to lose it before he got it. 

He had thought that he would lose it, but he thought he would at least get a fucking moment with it. 

It somehow felt worse… being showed a delicate little hope, reaching out and accepting it hesitantly, only holding it for a fucking moment before it shattered like the glass in the carpet. 

Seonghwa wasn’t laying here, picturing a future with Hongjoong. But he was picturing something better than what he had. Something more meaningful. Something real. More than what he was currently living for which was- 

What? Wooyoung and Yeosang and Yunho and Eden… and that was it? Saving people. Was that all the meaning he could find in this stupid life? A handful of friends who had better ones than him, and a job that had him currently bleeding out on a stained carpet? 

He wanted something to fucking live for, so if Hongjoong took away the one chance he had for more, he was going to shoot his fucking corpse. 

Seonghwa made one, weak, valiant attempt to pull himself forward, to get a view of Hongjoong, and it ended as well as could be expected, black creeping into his vision and locking his lungs up as he hissed a curse, a pained gasp ripping through his teeth. 

“Seonghwa?” he heard Hongjoong call from near the window. 

“‘Fine,” he snapped, fingers tightening on the gun. He fucking hated this whole fucking thing- 

Anger. Yes. Anger was better than fear. Fear paralyzed. Anger made you move. Even if Seonghwa couldn’t move either way. 

“I’m checking the view,” Hongjoong reported, voice low but audible. Seonghwa heard glass crunch and shift. 

A single shot hit the opposite wall. 

“They’re being careful now,” Seonghwa piped up, speaking making it hurt so fucking bad.Every twitch and flex of his muscles burned and shot pain. Seonghwa was sure he would have passed out long ago if he hadn’t built up some sort of pain tolerance, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a fucking  _ bitch.  _

“They’ve got a clear visual on us,” Hongjoong said, gun cocking. “Which makes this a lot fucking harder. Straight across from the window, on the opposite rooftop.” 

Spraying bullets were easy to slip between. Calculated shots aimed at your one opening were not. Hongjoong would never be able to get up to shoot before they got him first. The stupid assholes, aiming for their one fucking chance of-

“The door,” Seonghwa croaked suddenly, voice cracking. 

“What?” Hongjoong asked, glass shifting. 

“The door,” he said, louder, words stuttering as his lungs locked up and released. “They’re aiming for the window- go through the door, they won’t be looking at it.” 

It would buy him only seconds, but it was seconds they currently didn’t have. 

“You can’t expect me to be able to open the door, take aim, and fire before they shift their sight two inches to the fucking right,” Hongjoong hissed. 

Seonghwa was silent for a moment, trying to breathe through a knife in his upper back that lodged there. 

“Seonghwa?” Calm but panicked. 

“Gimme a second,” he wheezed, swallowing thickly, forcing the words out because they were wasting time and blood. “The-” his breaths cut him off. “You’ve gotta try. What other-  _ hn-  _ options do we have right now?”

Seonghwa hated it. He used plans, he used logic, he used rationales- 

They didn’t have time for that. They didn’t even have time to argue about it. 

The only had time for crazy and reckless. The one time Seonghwa actually gave a shit if he made it out alive. 

“You’ve just gotta make it count.” 

Hongjoong cursed, more shifting, more glass, muttering to himself that Seonghwa almost didn’t hear. “Fuck all this fucking bullshit, give me one thing and then try and tear everyhing else away-” 

The world was beginning to spin slowly.  _ Do not fucking pass out.  _

_ Do not fucking leave him by himself.  _

“We are going to fucking die,” Hongjoong muttered, and it sounded angry and bitter and fed up- 

And worried. Not scared. But not a meaningless statement that he didn’t actually believe. 

And Seonghwa realized that this must be Hongjoong’s worst fucking nightmare: admitting everything to Seonghwa, Seonghwa accepting it… and then dying. 

His skin felt clammy. 

“No, we’re not.” It was as strong as he could make it, which was pathetic really, but Hongjoong stopped shifting. “We-” He swallowed, teeth almost breaking as he grit them. “We did not make it through everything else- we did not survive  _ each other-  _ just to die in this shitty fucking hotel by a maniac with a big gun.” 

Silence. A bullet fired, as if to remind them that he was still there. Seonghwa winced. 

“You owe me dinner when all this is over,” Hongjoong spat, voice shaking slightly. 

Seonghwa would have laughed if it wouldn’t have made him pass out. “How does me-  _ fuck-  _ getting shot equate to owing you dinner?”

“You just better fucking do it!” Hongjoong snapped, and even if his voice was shaking, Seonghwa knew his hands weren’t. “You fucking owe me after eight years, and you better not fucking skip out!

_ You better not fucking die.  _

Seonghwa swallowed, his eyes stinging. 

It was different. Having someone who cares if he lived or died. “If you can make this shot without dying, I will fucking take you out to dinner after all this is over, Hongjoong.” 

That was the fucking least he could do if Hongjoong managed to get them out of here. 

He supposed this was where he saw Hongjoong as a true real agent. Nothing between him and dying but Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong cleared his throat, sighing low and slow. “I’m going to open the door and fire,” He said, maybe to himself or maybe to Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa wanted to reassure him, to tell him he could do it, that Seonghwa believed in him-

Because he did. Seonghwa had long since stopped viewing Hongjoong as incompetent. He knew that he could get them out of here. It was just whether whatever power was out there watching decided to screw them over or not. So Seonghwa said nothing. 

But they were useless words. Hongjoong either did it or he didn’t. Wasting his shallow breaths wasn’t going to change that. 

They didn’t have the luxury of heartfelt goodbye and tearful reassurances. As much as Seonghwa felt like they were needed, he kept them shoved back to the bottom of his throat. They could not afford thoughts of ‘this is the end’ or ‘this is it.’ Life did not gift them that luxury. There was only the mission and getting it done. At any cost. 

There was a man shooting into a hotel. They needed him dead. Their own lives and feelings didn’t matter. Just finish the mission. 

Keep as many people unaware as possible. Keep them safe. 

“Fuck,” he heard Hongjoong curse, and more glass shifting. “Pillow,” he muttered, and Seonghwa heard a hand hitting fabric, and then another gunshot hitting the springs of the bed, making Seonghwa duck his head. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, voice straining now. His stomach lurched, like he might vomit, and he swallowed burning bile painfully, gasping around it. 

“A distraction,” Hongjoong said, shifting around. “Throw the pillow in front of the window, shoot while they’re distracted by it.” 

Seonghwa huffed, and his vision tinged yellow-green. “Hongjoong, I might pass out,” he said, tongue getting heavy in his mouth. He tried to breathe through it, eyes closed tightly against the vertigo. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Hongjoong snapped. “You better fucking not, Seonghwa, I’m  _ not  _ kidding.” 

Well, what as he going to do about it? The darkness was inviting for its lack of pain, but terrifying for its lack of awareness. 

Seonghwa breathed as best he could, ignoring the spinning. “Then you’d better hurry up,” he whispered, something like fear settling in his chest. He didn’t want to fall unconscious, didn’t want to be ignorant to what Hongjoong was doing, what was happening. 

Don’t you fucking dare. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong whispered. He probably said it at full volume, but Seonghwa’s ears felt like they were full of cotton. “Three.” 

A throb of pain with his heartbeat. 

“Two.” 

Seonghwa swallowed, opening his eyes but closing them when his stomach rolled with the spinning room. 

“One.” 

Through cotton ears, he heard a single gunshot hit the bedspread. 

The pillow. 

The door tore open. 

Another shot- from Hongjoong. Two, three, four, five- 

Seonghwa’s heart was in his throat as he breathed in the scent of dirt and blood in the carpet. 

Silence. Seonghwa blinked, and when he opened his eyes, half his vision was tunneled. 

Fuck, do not fucking pass out, do not fucking- 

Silence. He could hear his heartbeat. Nothing else. 

“Hongjoong?” It wasn’t loud enough. Not even if Hongjoong had been right next to him. He felt like he was being shoved underwater. “Hongjoong?” he rasped, trying to be louder, the pressure in his chest chasing darkness into his eyes. 

Do not fucking- 

Suddenly, Hongjoong was dropped down in front of him, making Seonghwa jump violently, jarring his back, and making him cry out, breath hissing between his teeth, his ears ringing loudly, like a siren blaring. 

Hands touched his arm. 

Fingers touched his cheek. Tapped them. Seonghwa blinked hard, feeling like his lungs were slowly shrinking. 

‘-hwa!” 

It was like hearing through plastic. Hongjoong was talking to him. Yelling at him. Seonghwa couldn’t hear. 

“Got… him?” It was strange. Listening to his voice rumble in his chest but not hearing it in his ears. He could barely see, fingers scratching at the carpet. 

“If he- not dea- -et, he wil- be soo-.” 

God, everything just fucking hurt. 

“Ca- you mov- at all?”

Seonghwa tried to shake his head, but the small shift swallowed his vision. 

“-eonghwa! Ope- you- -cking eyes!” 

He wanted to say that he couldn’t. He thought his eyes were open. He wanted to throw up, and God, he just wanted it to stop hurting. 

“-osang, we nee- emerg-cy evac -ow! On- bull- -ound to the side! Ju- -elow- his -ibs! Still insi-! Losi- -lot of-lood!” 

Can I pass out now? 

No. What about Hongjoong? The sniper was dead. Yes. Were there more? Was Jaehyun a sniper? How many partners did he have? Was he still out there? 

Hongjoong’s one hand brushed his hair, and maybe it would have felt nice without fire searing its way across his skin. 

“-eonghwa, I’m going- -- put press- on you- -ound, it’s gonn- hur- -ke a bitch. Okay?”

He was gonna- 

Pain suddenly raced along his entire body like lightning, and Seonghwa only had enough strength to scream, jerk, and then fall still, blackness racing over his mind and dragging under to a place he didn’t want to go. 

But the pain stopped, blissfully- 

 

~~~~~

 

A gunshot. 

Something heavy fell against him. Seonghwa knew he should be feeling pain but everything was numb. He was sure if he were more aware, he’d be screaming. 

The weight on his back made it hard to breathe. He couldn’t breathe. 

Panic swelled in his chest. He cracked his eyes open. 

Everything was tilting. He almost vomited. 

Something was pinning him down, but his eyes fell on the back of someone walking away slowly, a gun dangling from their fingertips. 

That was not Hongjoong. 

Why was Hongjoong not taking them out? Where was Hongjoong? He was in Seonghwa’s vision last he saw. The man kept walking, almost out of his vision. 

Seonghwa tightened his grip on his gun, only able to shift his wrist. 

He knew that man. 

He aimed upward with the gun. It would easier if he could breathe. 

He couldn’t breathe. Already, the man wearing sunglasses was being wrapped in spots and darkness. 

Seonghwa didn’t have the time or energy to wait. He took a shot in the dark as his vision blurred too badly to even see. He simply pointed where the man had been. 

It took everything to tighten his finger hard enough. Pain stabbed his back. 

Gunshot. The recoil hit him hard, making him jerk. 

Once more, fire raced across him, covering him in a blanket of agony heavy enough to shove him back into the darkness. 

~~~~~

 

Seonghwa came back to more agony burning his muscles, more spinning as he felt like he was being launched through the air. 

“-blood now!” 

“In the trucks, sir!” 

“Hold that pressure!” 

Seonghwa wanted to be unconscious again. It felt like needles had been injected into each of his pores. Every brush of wind felt like fire, and his neck felt like it was broken and twisted. 

“Get him in the truck, go!” 

From a farther distance: “-ne dead by gunshot, and the other… well…” 

Seonghwa was lifted up on something, and then the breeze and wind stopped, and he stared at cold grey metal. 

“Get the other in the next truck!” 

Hongjoong. 

His hand twitched. There was no gun in it. 

Hongjoong. Where was Hongjoong? 

The voices were too many. Too loud. 

Where was Hongjoong? He was okay. Last Seonghwa had seen, he was okay. He had been right there. He was fine. 

He was okay. He was okay- 

Was Seonghwa okay? He felt like he was dying, acid in his veins. 

He closed his eyes to blink, and couldn’t open them again. 

 

~~~~~

 

He could hear sounds. But it was hard through the ache trying to swallow his body as if he were one giant bruise that had gained sentience. 

Seonghwa didn’t move, didn’t risk enticing that pain to return. Something kept beeping. He wished they would turn if off. He was on his stomach. He wished he was on his back. He was cold. 

  
  


Seonghwa opened his eyes just enough to let light pass through, but it was too bright, and he winced. It felt like someone punched him with a sharp pencil in his back, and he breathed heavily through it. 

  
  


“-going to be okay.” 

Seonghwa tried to swallow, but his throat only caught in a sharp pain with how dry it was. He wanted to cough. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“They said he would wake up within the next couple of days.” 

“They don’t actually  _ mean  _ it!” 

Seonghwa tensed, too loud, too loud- 

A short huff, followed by silence, and it was enough for Seonghwa to fall asleep to. He wished he could stay awake, but he wished the pain would stop. He was too tired to even feel it anymore. It was just a constant thing now. 

  
  


This wasn’t dead. Seonghwa was not dead. 

He was still cold. Not his hand. His hand was not cold. 

A hand rubbed the back of his hand slowly. 

Hongj-

The hand was soft. Seonghwa’s face twitched. 

“-and he’s not going home,” a quiet voice whispered, like it wasn’t speaking to Seonghwa. But no one else responded to it. “I don’t mind… I don’t really feel like being alone either.” 

More silence, and Seonghwa almost drifted off into sleep. 

“I was visiting Hongjoong yesterday,” the voice said, gentle and soft, like it was afraid to wake him. Seonghwa wanted to jerk at the name, wanted to demand where he was. “I think he’s doing better. I mean… I think he is. Nothing really seems to be changing, but the nurse assured me he was getting better.” 

Better? Doing better? 

“The second surgery went well,” the voice murmured. “They think they finally got everything… sorted. Wooyoung’s been searching up about some of the terms they keep using-” 

Surgery. Hongjoong. Why was Hongjoong in surgery? Why did he need surgery?

Hongjoong was okay. Seonghwa was the one who was shot. Seonghwa was the one almost dying. Hongjoong was fine, Hongjoong wasn’t dying- 

He couldn’t die. 

Hongjoong didn’t get to throw all that at Seonghwa and then bow out. He didn’t get to admit all that, pull all that, and then take the easy exit- 

“-get better soon, Hyung,” the voice finally said. “We’re all worried. Hongjoong would be too.” 

Hongjoong was hurt. Was he dying? He wasn’t dead. 

Neither of them had the luxury of dying. That was too easy. That was too easy of an end. It could never be that simple. It  _ had  _ to be more complicated than that. 

Hongjoong couldn’t suddenly start making life easy. 

 

~~~~~

 

Seonghwa opened his eyes. 

He was on his back finally. He blinked slowly. The light made his eyes ache, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore. 

He didn’t feel so much pain. Just a heaviness. Like waking up after a long nap. He was finally warm, at least. 

He tried to shift, but found it too difficult, so he just stared upwards. 

He blinked. 

There was the sound of leather squeaking to his right. “Hyung?” 

He tried to tilt his head, but it wouldn’t move. He didn’t need to, though, as a shadow fell on him, and then a face blocked the lights above him. 

Yeosang stared down, disbelieving, and gasped when he saw Seonghwa’s eyes open. “Holy-” he reached above them, and a the sound of a button clicking echoed slightly. “Holy shit, hyung,” he breathed sinking down, and sitting on what must be a chair beside his bed. “Hyung, you scared the shit- Are you okay? Do you feel okay? Can you move?” 

Seonghwa swallowed, this throat still crackling. Yeosang took one of his hands gently. “Hyung?” he prompted, voice small. “Are you-” 

The door suddenly opened, and Seonghwa stiffened, wanting to see who was coming in- 

“It’s just the doctor,” Yeosang said, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand, frowning and glancing back. “He woke up,” he said quietly. 

Seonghwa laid by idly as the doctor asked Yeosang to wait outside. He turned to Seonghwa. “Are you thirsty?” he asked, going about and checking things around Seonghwa’s bed. 

Seonghwa managed a weak noise in the back of his mouth. 

“Alright, I’m going to lift the bed so you can drink,” he said, holding a small remote. The doctor didn’t look at him in anger, but it was clear he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be at work right now. That made two of them. “It’s going to be uncomfortable to shift, but let me know if the pain gets really bad, okay?” 

Seonghwa doubted this man really cared whether or not he was in pain. But he nodded slowly, neck stiff. 

There was a soft whirring and the upper half of his bed began to raise, and he winced as it shifted his abdomen, but it was like a dull ache- like a ghost of a punch’s bruise. 

A cup with a straw was held to his mouth, and Seonghwa drained it. 

“You’ll still be weak, so I’ll do most of the talking while I check some of your vitals and such, okay?” he asked, stepping around to Seonghwa’s other side, where an EKG beeped softly. “Do you remember being shot?” he questioned, peering at clipboard hanging there. 

Seonghwa… did?

He remembered being upright, and then there was a lot of pain, so that was probably the ‘getting shot’ part. 

“You lost a lot of blood,” the doctor continued, checking his eyes and moving parts of his body here and there. “Not to mention the internal damage caused by the bullet. You’re extremely lucky- the bullet missed most everything that would have killed you. Internal bleeding was pretty minimal,and easily fixed. You’ll be tired for a while, but that’s normal. It cracked one of your ribs in the back, so you will have to be careful of that pain. Only soft foods for now, and we’ll keep you here for a few days to make sure no infection or complications arise.” 

Seonghwa let the words wash over him him a tide, letting them sink into him as he didn’t register them, but heard what was being said. 

Shot. Bleeding. Days. 

“How long was I out?” he croaked, voice like sandpaper. 

“Three days,” the doctor replied distantly. “Your team has been extremely worried for you, but once you stabilized, they’ve been spending some of their time in Agent Kim’s room with his team.” 

Agent Kim? Who the fuck was- 

_ Hongjoong.  _

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa said, eyes widening as he tried to look directly at the other man in the room. The shout came out as a wheeze through his aching chest. “Hongjoong- where- What happened to him?” he demanded, raspy voice cracking, making him wince. “He was fine- What’s wrong with him?  _ What happened _ ?” 

The doctor seemed alarmed with the sudden spike in energy, and laid a gentle hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Calm down, first,” he said, for the first time taking on a half-caring tone. “You’re still bed ridden for-”

“What happened to him?” Seonghwa tried to snap, trying to push the hand off of him, but his arm only lifted a few inches from the bed before it fell back down. “How did he get hurt?” 

Hongjoong had been fine. He had been fine, and Seonghwa was unconscious, he didn’t know what happened- 

“He was shot,” the doctor finally said, in an attempt to placate him. 

Shot. 

“By who?” It was meant to be an angry demand, but it came out weaker. Seonghwa could feel his voice leaving him as he swallowed hard. 

“You don’t remember what happened?”

“I was unconscious at the time,” Seonghwa said bitterly, glaring. “What the fuck happened?” 

The doctor sighed, rolling his neck as if Seonghwa was suddenly a blot on his nice day. “I’m not one of the agents on the assignment, I can’t tell you what occured to cause the injury, only-” 

“Send Yeosang back in,” Seonghwa said firmly. 

“We-” 

“You can’t give me the information I need,” he practically whispered, but it was stiff enough to have an effect. He felt like shit, but his heart was suddenly pounding in his chest. “So send in someone who can. Now.” 

The doctor looked ready to push the issue, but maybe he was happy to pass Seonghwa’s difficult ass onto someone else. Maybe he liked it better when Seonghwa was unconscious. 

These fucking agency emergency rooms were a pain in the ass every time. 

“Fine, I can allow you a few moments to speak with him, but not long. A nurse will be in after he leaves to ensure everything is still going properly.” 

The doctor gave him no more than a backwards glance as he exited. “He wants to see you,” he said before disappearing. “Don’t make it worse, got it?”

The words were rote. Not caring. But it affected Seonghwa none. Yeosang peered in, looking confused, but stepped inside, trying to smile, but it shook. “Are you…” His eyes glanced over Seonghwa. “What?” he asked, frowning as he sat down. 

“What happened to Hongjoong?” Seonghwa questioned roughly, hands flexing. 

Yeosang blinked, seeming surprised that Seonghwa didn’t know, but Yeosang knew him- if Seonghwa was asking, that meant he needed an answer. 

“We’re not entirely sure what happened inside the room,” Yeosang said slowly, fingers playing with each other. Seonghwa wondered vaguely where Wooyoung was. “We only have some old-ass camera footage of the outside of the buildings. Barely enough pixels to see anything, much less specific faces and actions.” He looked particularly perturbed by this. 

“Um…” He frowned. “I don’t know what you already saw. Hongjoong shot across the courtyard, yeah?”

Five shots. Seonghwa nodded. 

“Okay. We found the sniper’s body on the ground- he fell after Hongjoong shot him. And then, nothing happened for a while. We can’t see inside the room, except this little part through the window, and we could see Hongjoong’s head, just above the bedline, but not you.” Yeosang shifted. “Another man walked from outside the hotel into the courtyard and went straight to your room. He stepped inside, and you could just barely see him through the window.” 

Yeosang looked a little ill, wetting his lips nervously. “And he just… he just pulled out a gun and shot Hongjoong in the back. I don’t even think Hongjoong heard him come in.” 

Seonghwa’s stomach flipped violently. Hongjoong was shot… 

He was going to throw up. 

“From the video feed, all you see if Hongjoong fall out of frame. And then the man turns to leave… and then you shot him from behind.” He shook his head. “Or, well, we assume it was you based on your gun in your hand after everything. We looked at the discharges from both weapons and everything but-” He shrugged helplessly. “Hongjoong had called me, we sent out some people… and we just found the two of you laying there, bleeding out on each other.” 

Seonghwa remembered seeing a back walking away, a gun dangling from their hand. His own gun raising and firing. 

“He’s dead?” 

Yeosang nodded. “Both of them.” 

“And there’s no more people on Jaehyun’s team?” Seonghwa breathed, something heavy settling on his chest. 

Yeosang hesitated. “We’re still looking into it,” he said firmly. “But according to the emails we looked out, these are all the immediate people. We’re making sure there’s not still someone lurking out there, but for now, we’re operating as if all of them have been taken care of.” 

Then… This was it? That was… all? They sent out a team to take out, bribe, whatever Hyorin’s father, and then… that was it? After what felt like weeks of being chased, it was just.. Over?

Just like that? 

Seonghwa refused to believe it. There was no way after everything that had been spawned of this, there was such an anticlimactic ending, there had to be more- 

Yeosang’s next breath was shuddering. “Hyung, you scared us so fucking bad. You’d both lost so much blood-” 

And suddenly Seonghwa realized that it was  _ not  _ over. 

“How bad was the shot?” he asked quickly, feeling a thrumming in his veins. An urge to move. To see. To help. What the hell was he supposed to do?

What was he supposed to feel? Because everything was different. He and Hongjoong were different, and he knew his chest was twisting and turning and squeezing, but he didn’t know what to call it, what to do about it. 

He just knew that he felt fear. And he didn’t know what to do about it. 

Yeosang winced. “He… it was pretty bad. The shot  messed up a couple of his ribs. It nicked his lung, and it was lodged pretty deep from being shot at such a short range. They had to do a couple surgeries to make sure they got all the pieces and parts sorted out, and he’s… okay right now.” 

Seonghwa wanted to sit up. He wanted to move. He needed to fucking move. “What kind of okay?” 

Because Seonghwa was okay. Okay just meant alive. Alive was not the bar he wanted to be meeting. 

Yeosang sighed shortly. “Well, he hasn’t woken up. They’ve got him on a breathing tube and a bunch of a pain meds. He’s just… He’ll be fine. He’s gonna have to go through a crap ton of recovery and some sort of therapy for it, but… he’ll be fine once he wakes up.” 

Seonghwa was a rational person. 

But it was jarring. Because last he saw Hongjoong, Hongjoong was fine. And now… 

This was not fine. 

He took his eyes off of him for the first time in days and this-

There was a long silence between them, Seonghwa pushed the part of his mind that tried to panic away, and focusing on the logical part that said Hongjoong was okay. He was okay. They were both okay. 

“Where’s Wooyoung?” he eventually asked quietly, when the silence had dragged on long enough. “He was here, right?” 

Yeosang nodded, looking tired. “I made him go home. He’s going to complain the whole night when he finds out you woke up without him here, but-” he shrugged. “He complains the whole night anyway, so there’s not much to lose.” 

And Seonghwa found it in his chest to chuckle- more of a wheeze, but he was pretty sure Yeosang could tell the difference. 

He really was glad that Yeosang and Wooyoung had each other, regardless of how hard they tried to find it. At least someone was doing okay. 

(And really… if he thought about it, he always attributed Yeosang and Wooyoung’s stable mental state to not being field agents or just not being all that fucked up in the head… but maybe it was each other that helped them keep that levelness.) 

“Now, you’ll be the one sleeping on the couch.” 

Yeosang rolled his eyes, shoving Seonghwa’s arm gently- barely at all. “I’m beginning to wish Hongjoong had called someone else.” 

Seonghwa smiled tiredly. “No, he knew who he needed to call.” 

Yeosang’s eyes- soft but intense- trailed over Seonghwa’s face. “What the hell happened in 24 hours, hyung?” Yeosang questioned softly. 

Seonghwa huffed weakly, feeling a rhythm set in his chest. “Well, clearly, I’ve been shot-” 

“No, I mean between you and Hongjoong.” 

His voice stuck in his throat. Because for a moment, he forgot that Hongjoong and he had been in their own little world. That no one else was privy to what happened- 

What absolute chaos and hell they had gone through with each other, because of each other, for each other- 

What conclusions were stripped away and shoved forward, what discoveries were still haunting the back of Seonghwa’s mind- 

Yeosang didn’t know. No one did. Just Hongjoong and Seonghwa. 

And suddenly, there was a surge of protectiveness- a part of him that didn’t want to say anything, that wanted to keep that for himself. First, because he was too exhausted to try and think about it or say it, and second… because that was something major that had thrown Seonghwa and Hongjoong… well, just thrown them around like beads stuck in a tube. 

“I’ll explain it later,” Seonghwa said. Because really, if anyone deserved to know, it was Yeosang. 

His brow went up. “You mean something  _ did _ happen?”

“A lot of shit happened,” Seonghwa assured him, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. His back pinched slightly at the action. “But I can’t explain it right now. I’ll tell you later.” 

Yeosang seemed hesitant, but he nodded. “Alright.” 

A nurse came in. Yeosang had to leave. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung,” Yeosang assured him. “And I’ll bring Wooyoung so he stops bitching at me.” 

Seonghwa nodded slowly. “Yeosang,” he said quietly, but it was enough to make him pause on his walk to the door. Seonghwa chewed his lip. “Can you stop in by Hongjoong before you go? Just check in on him.”

He tried to make it sound like an order. Like a fellow agent checking back in on a partner who had been hit in the field, but Seonghwa’s expression must have given something away. Yeosang’s eyes trailed over Seonghwa’s face again, confused but also knowing, as if he had just realized what Seonghwa meant, because the Seonghwa he knew wouldn’t be worried for Hongjoong, wouldn’t have given a shit about whether he was shot… But Yeosang’s expression didn’t shift. 

But Yeosang nodded. “Sure thing, hyung.” 

This nurse was much more amiable than the doctor before her, and Seonghwa let her do whatever she needed without putting up a fight. 

“Alright,” she said, smiling brightly as she fixed the blankets around his waist. “Looks like you’re set for the night. Anything else you need? 

He was tired. He felt sluggish, but part of him was scared to close his eyes again. At least the pain was dull. Seonghwa chewed on the inside of his lip. “Can I ask a favor?” 

She blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Sure thing.” 

“Would it be possible for me to go see the agent that was brought in with me?” And he could see it- the way she hesitated, her lips drawing down, and her brow furrowing. “Just for a minute,” he said quickly. He was desperate to see Hongjoong. He didn’t have any sort of horror in his head about finding him cold and motionless- but it would make everything a lot less… 

It would just help to see. Even if Yeosang said he was fine. Even if Yeosang had just checked in on him. Because the last time, Hongjoong had gone from fine to shot in seconds. 

The nurse still hesitated, biting her lip. “Well… not tonight,” she said finally. “But I think I could arrange for it tomorrow. It might not be long, though- you’re not supposed to be up and moving around too much yet.” 

It wasn’t what he wanted, but Seonghwa would take what he could get. It would probably keep him up tonight, but at least he knew he would, at some point, get to see him. 

“Thank you.” 

She left, turning off the light. Seonghwa lay there silently, staring in the darkness. He wanted to go back through… everything. All of… three days? Three days ago. He’d been unconscious for as long as he had been running. 

Had it only been three days? Four? No  more than five. 

And somehow… somehow he had gone from shooting daggers at Hongjoong to him returning with his own attack that wouldn’t let go of Seonghwa’s chest. 

His mind wouldn’t focus. As if it knew that thinking on it would only hurt more, would make it worse… So Seonghwa just lay there, his mind only able to flash small images of Hongjoong… 

Kisses. Tears. Soft touches. 

_ I want it with you.  _

He and Hongjoong… as much as Seonghwa kept thinking they had changed, it just kept shifting, just kept moving, and it was like standing on a pile of sand that was slowly slipped away. 

His foot was still on the land mine. 

He was still treading water. 

But maybe… maybe he could see land? Maybe the mine was a dud. Maybe… maybe he could… possibly… be with Hongjoong? 

Did he have a right to? After everything he had done, everything he had said, thought, threatened to Hongjoong, what right did he have to try and seek something more with him just because it was convenient for him?

What sort of asshole was he, to consider being more with someone he was only looking twice at because… 

Because why? Why was he looking at Hongjoong? 

Because he had been wrong. About it all. About everything. About every single thing he had ever said or thought about Hongjoong. He was wrong. And the memory of everything they had done made his stomach churn. 

And knowing that Hongjoong had been.. What? In love? No. Right? Infatuated. Infatuated was a safe word. Hongjoong had been interested in him… not like he had presented himself. 

They were both so fucked up. So fucking twisted and decrepit compared to people like Wooyoung and Yeosang who had their shit together. In that way, they were perfect for each other. 

They knew how to deal with fucked up. Maybe not well, but neither of them was about to go running because one of them pulled a gun when they got jittery. They wouldn’t scoff in disgust when one of them demanded they stop, just to remember that they had that power. 

Because who else would put up with that? It was too much effort. Too much work. 

But not for them, right? They had already been there. Done that. 

Seonghwa just wanted to start over. He wanted to go back in time and stop himself from ever allowing Hongjoong to approach him. He wanted to meet him somewhere else. Maybe at college, without secret agents being a thing. Maybe in the field, but with a gun in his hand and skill visible so Seonghwa’s stupid ass didn’t start making assumptions from the get-go. Maybe just seeing him around, saying hello, and then seeing where the hell it went from there. 

He just wanted…. different. 

Sleep did not find Seonghwa, save for a gentle nap in the early morning hours. He spent the day replaying what he could, remembering what he could, thinking and twisting and turning and wondering- 

He had shot that man? 

That man who had shot Hongjoong? 

He hadn’t even know. That weight. That noise. 

What did he want from Hongjoong? What did Hongjoong want from him?

Could they give each other that? Could they do it without tearing each other apart or tearing themselves apart? Could they help each other without detrimentally hurting themselves? Or was the only way by ripping off pieces of themselves and giving them over, hoping you hadn’t given too much this time?

Seonghwa didn’t want to hurt Hongjoong. 

Not anymore. 

He just wanted to stop hurting him. 

It was too early. Too soon. And Seonghwa had bigger concerns than his and Hongjoong’s relationship. 

But Seonghwa didn’t think about that. There was a constant bitter taste of fear in the back of his mouth, and he tried to rinse it with other thoughts. 

He thought about Hongjoong’s eyes staring at him, a gentle smile on his lips, and tried to imagine being able to see that all the time. 

He couldn’t imagine it, though. The smile always faded away. Even in his mind. 

 

~~~~~~ 

 

It was hard to breathe. 

Not enough to panic about- Seonghwa had been shot a few times, and he knew that any sort of movement was going to start making his lungs lock up, his muscles protest, his brain screaming at him to just go lay back down- 

He sat- slightly hunched- in a wheelchair that the nurse had rolled over and helped him get into (and then taken ten minutes just to get his breath back and stop the throbbing in his back). He could feel the exact point of entry, the thick bandage there… It fucking hurt. But the pain meds they had him on kept him from complaining about it. 

Save for when the wound stretched, and Seonghwa had to freeze in order not to scream at the sudden stab of pain. 

The nurse- Haena, she told him- wheeled him into a hallway, talking brightly about the weather outside and how maybe tomorrow he’d be able to go and have someone push him around the gardens. 

She paused at a door just three down from Seonghwa’s. “They moved him here yesterday from intensive care,” she said as she backed them both inside, holding the door with her back. “He’s doing much better.” 

She turned them around, and from this far away, this low, all Seonghwa could see was a slightly bump in the blankets, and a lot of machines. 

Haena moved him closer, parking him at the side, just at Hongjoong’s hand that was resting on the bed. “I’ll give you a few minutes, and then I have to take you back, alright?”

Seonghwa didn’t give her an answer. Didn’t even hear her leave. 

He just stared. 

Because Hongjoong looked small, laying there. It was a big bed, made for patients of all sizes, and a blanket was tucked around his waist, and he just looked small. 

He wasn’t pale. There were small pink patches on his cheeks, and he wasn’t dead. Seonghwa’s could see his chest rise and fall. 

He was breathing. Of course, there was a tube down his throat, and that was what made Seonghwa twitch the most. 

Seonghwa had been on a breathing tube, after that incident that sparked his nightmares, but he’d been unconscious the entire time. 

An IV drip was in one wrist, a little clip on the end of his finger, wires from the ventilator and EKG and all the other machines around framing him like a jungle of life support. 

Seonghwa stared at one thin, dainty hand with its chipped black polish, reaching out his own slowly. It hurt, and he grit his teeth at the shift of his back, but he laid his hand gently atop Hongjoong’s. His hand was chilled from being outside the blankets. 

Hongjoong was very still. The only part of him that moved was his chest. 

Seonghwa stared at his hand, resting against the paler skin, and it hit him how intimate a gesture it was. 

It wasn’t even the innocent kisses and brushing hands. It felt vapid- like a schoolyard crush holding hands. But it was something Seonghwa had never done. He stared at his hand. At Hongjoong’s. 

He felt like he shouldn’t be here. 

This entire thing should not be happening. Everything. All of it shouldn’t happen. Getting shot, being hospitalized- 

The kisses. 

They shouldn’t have happened. Because this wasn’t a relationship. This was… 

This was Hongjoong having a….  _ Something  _ for Seonghwa. Love, crush, infatuation- whatever. Hongjoong felt something for Seonghwa. Even when Seonghwa spit in his face. 

And now Seonghwa was trying to act like it was nothing? Like he hadn’t meant every word he said? Now, Seonghwa knew what Hongjoong felt and suddenly wanted to reciprocate? That wasn’t what Hongjoong deserved. 

That wasn’t returning his feelings. That was latching on to the first thing that showed him interest that wasn’t sexual. And it wasn’t Hongjoong’s fault. Hongjoong was not manipulating him. Hongjoong was being earnest and sincere. 

It was Seonghwa who was taking advantage. 

His stomach twisted with self-disgust. Even trying to see passed it, even changing his opinion of Hongjoong… it didn’t really change anything. It didn’t take away years of anger that he meant. Hatred that he  _ meant _ . 

_ I stopped meaning it.  _

Seonghwa hadn’t. Not until less than a week ago did he even consider the fact that Hongjoong might not be someone he would shoot on sight. And now suddenly he was trying to picture some sort of future? 

(He could almost hear Hongjoong scoffing. “Noble pride.”) 

Hongjoong remained still. He couldn’t see any of the bandages beneath the hospital gown and blankets, but he knew they would be there, like around his own waist. 

Seonghwa realized his hand was still on top of his. He withdrew it slowly, settling back and wincing. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what all of it meant, what he should mean, what he should do- 

The door opened, Haena poking her head in. “Alright, time to get you back to bed,” she said, voice an appropriate quiet for the room. “Was this good enough?” she asked, unlocking the wheels of the chair. “See- he’s doing just fine. He should wake up sometime today or tomorrow, and then it’s just a recovery process! And if he’s anything like you, he’ll be just fine in no time,” she assured him. 

The words didn’t provide any real comfort. But it was nice to hear someone talking, something to distract from the confusion in his head. He thought he was done being confused. 

Getting back into the bed was just as bad as getting out of it, and Haena smiled apologetically as she set his blankets back over him. “Can you let me know when he wakes up?” Seonghwa requested as she went to leave. 

She smiled, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Of course. I’ll keep an eye out and let you know as soon as I find out.” 

Seonghwa ate bland hospital food, but he didn’t really care about taste right now. They wouldn’t let him drink any caffeine, which was annoying, but didn’t seem as mind numbing as it might once. He drank the stupid orange juice they gave him (choking on the pulp). 

And in the afternoon, there was a knock on his door, and Yeosang stuck his head in quietly, first checking to see if he was awake, and then grinning when Seonghwa lifted a hand in greeting. 

“Hey, hyu-” 

Yeosang was shoved forward violently, Wooyoung glaring at him as he stepped inside, Yeosang rolling his eyes as Wooyoung marched over to Seonghwa’s bed, stopping and glaring at Seonghwa. 

He lifted a questioning eyebrow, and Wooyoung let out an angry  huff. “If you weren’t injured, I’d beat the shit out of you.” 

And for a blessed moment, Seonghwa was able to forget about confusion as he smiled gently. “It’s nice to see you, too,” he said assuredly. 

Wooyoung lifted a hand as if to hit him. “And Yeosang didn’t even tell you were awake until he got home last night-” 

“Visiting hours were already over!” 

“And what the fuck kind of idiot are you- getting fucking  _ shot  _ like that!” Wooyoung said, not yelling but his voice raised. “You lasted so long, and in the final stretch, you fuck up your back-

Seonghwa could only laugh at the bursting words- like a water balloon popping. 

(His mind pointedly did not think of wrapping his arms tighter around Hongjoong to try and protect him. That made him seem noble.) 

“How did  _ both _ of you manage to get shot?” Wooyoung demanded, Yeosang finally coming to stand beside him. “How the ever loving fuck-” 

Yeosang clapped one hand over Wooyoung’s mouth, offering an eye smile to Seonghwa. “He was worried about you.” 

Wooyoung tried to wrench Yeosang’s hand off, which only prompted a second hand to grab his wrist, stopping him. “Are you going to stop yelling and cursing in a damn hospital?” he asked calmly, like he was talking to kid throwing a tantrum. 

Wooyoung huffed, muttering something against the hand, but Yeosang removed it, Wooyoung rubbing at his mouth to clear it. “Hyung, you’re a dumbass,” he deadpanned, dodging a swipe from Yeosang. “But I’m glad you’re not dead, because if you were, I’d have to kill you.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, his chest feeling a little lighter as the familiar banter brushed over him. He didn’t need to think about this. “I’m glad I’m not dead, too,” he assured Wooyoung. “And I promise, I had no knowledge that I would be getting shot.” 

Wooyoung snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure. That sniper didn’t seem to know he’d be getting shot either. If nothing else, Hongjoong’s got one hell of an aim.” 

Okay, this was no longer effortless, Hongjoong’s name dropped casually and Seonghwa needing to take a physical breath to get his balance back. 

“Are you and Hongjoong any better?” Wooyoung asked, so blessedly ignorant and pure, staring at Seonghwa, head tilted and brows pulled down. “After what you and I talked about?” 

Well, they had kissed enough times that Wooyoung would have a heart attack if Seonghwa told him. They had both revealed parts of themselves that no one else had access to. Two previously enemies had slammed into each other’s spaces and refused to back down, and this whole…  _ thing  _ had come of it. 

“Yeah,” was all Seonghwa could say, eyes flickering down to stare at his hands on the sheets. 

Wooyoung opened his mouth, frowning, and Yeosang tapped his hand subtly, but so obvious as Wooyoung glanced at him and closed his mouth slowly. 

“I’m glad both of you are gonna be okay,” Yeosang said. “It hasn’t been the same without you.” 

Wooyoung snorted, falling away from the awkward stop. “Eden will be glad to have you back at least. Stuff is getting done, but it doesn’t have your-” he wiggled his fingers- “ _ flare _ .” 

“He’s pissed, too,” Yeosang said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “All the files and everything we found were turned in, and finding out that Gong was putting out hits- Most of the whole agency is going under investigation.” 

Now, that made Seonghwa pause, blinking. “Seriously?” 

Wooyoung nodded. “Eden’s been tailed by this one chick for the past couple of days. So far, no one has been exposed for anything shifty, but they’re planning on keeping it up for a while longer.” 

“They’re doing all that?” Seonghwa asked, honestly shocked. 

“Well, yeah,” Yeosang chuckled. “Eden pushed for it the hardest out of anyone. A single mid-level guy taking money from one person with a grudge almost cost us two of our best agents, a shit ton of confusion that affected other missions, and threatened a crap ton of civilians through the whole thing. Eden was about to start tearing through the Board of Directors himself.” 

Too much. Too fast. 

Feelings, getting shot, being here, the agency moving on already, as if Seonghwa and Hongjoong weren’t… 

What? Struggling? Trying to figure themselves the fuck out? As if Seonghwa wasn’t sitting here, trying to figure out where the hell his moral compass was pointing… 

The world kept turning. His had stopped the moment he stepped into that apartment. 

“We should head home, soon,” Yeosang after a spell of silence. “We’ve got a couple more reports to turn in for being involved with everything that happened.” 

Seonghwa wanted to laugh at the reference of a single home, despite the two not “living together”. But it didn’t come. “Thanks for stopping by.” 

It really did help. 

“We’ll be by again tomorrow,” Wooyoung promised, standing and tugging Yeosang up by the hand, despite Yeosang’s complete ability to have done that himself. Their hands didn’t fall away from each other. 

“We’ll try and sneak you in some chocolate or something,” Yeosang promised, small smile testing the waters for Seonghwa’s mood. 

He smiled, almost hidden but shining in his eyes. “Thanks, you guys. For everything. The whole time- everything.” 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Oh God, don’t let getting shot make you soft,” he begged. “We would have done it for anyone, you’re special to us, hyung, just make sure it doesn’t happen again-  _ We get it _ .” 

Yeosang punched his arm sharply, smiling at Seonghwa. “It was nothing, hyung. Just get better quickly, okay?” 

Seonghwa nodded. 

They waved, Wooyoung glaring at Yeosang for hitting him, and Yeosang simply poked his cheek sharply as they closed the door behind them. 

Again, he was left alone in silence, with only his stupid thoughts for company.

Laughs and cries echoed in his head. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Seonghwa was eating lunch when Haena came in, beaming. 

“Guess who’s awake now!” she sang, clapping her hands in excitement. 

Seonghwa dropped his spoon on his tray, body physically jarring at the sudden bomb. (He was able to ignore the jolt in his lower back.). 

“Hongjoong’s awake?” he asked, voice stronger after the passed couple of days. 

She nodded happily. “He woke up a couple of hours ago, and the doctors have already been in to check up on him. He’s doing just fine. He’s on the right path to recovering!” 

Seonghwa’s blood roared in his ears. “Can I go see him?” 

He didn’t need to. He knew Hongjoong was alive, knew he was okay now…  

But he wanted to.

Haena eyed his tray, as if judging how much food he had eaten and if she would let him. As if she were not currently holding Seonghwa’s fragile mental state in her hands. Because Seonghwa didn’t need to go see Hongjoong… but he wanted to. 

She must have seen some of the desperation in his eyes, because her expression softened slightly. “Alright, but only because you’ve been good and eaten all your food,” she said smiling. “I’ll get your wheelchair.” 

It was marginally-  _ marginally-  _ easier to get into the chair this time, but Seonghwa still had to take several moments to get his breath back and stop his body from trying to twist into knots around the wound in his back. Haena waited patiently, holding his shoulder so he didn’t try and instinctively bend backwards. 

She rolled him down the hall, and Seonghwa’s heart beat frantically in his chest, like he was about to see something new, something he hadn’t seen before, and he tried to shove it away, but it persisted, shoving itself against his ribcage like a bird trying to escape a cage. 

She pushed the door open with her back, rolling them in, and when they turned around it was just like yesterday. All Seonghwa could see was a small mound of blankets and a jungle of machines. 

“Now, he’s still on the breathing tube and a few monitors,” Haena told him quietly. “And because of the breathing tube, they have him on some mild anesthetics. It’s just to keep him calm while he has it down his throat. He’ll be tired and out of it, so try not to stress him too much, okay?” 

She rolled him up to the bed, and Hongjoong looked exactly the same as he had when Seonghwa came in before. Except his eyes were open- glossy and slightly out of focus- but open and staring at the ceiling, almost like he had just woken up and was still trying to keep his eyes open. 

He didn’t look at Seonghwa- either didn’t notice him or something else. Haena stepped away. “I’ll be right outside,” she assured him. 

And despite his resolutions of yesterday, despite how he felt, Seonghwa’s hand reached out almost automatically, touching Hongjoong’s hand that rested on the blankets. 

God, he was so fucked. 

Hongjoong blinked slowly. Tilted his head towards Seonghwa minutely, his eyes following a half-beat later like he was going through a lag. His eyes stared at Seonghwa, then focused on him, still staring as if it were taking a moment for him to recognize him. 

For absolutely no reason other than being weak, Seonghwa’s throat began to close up. “Hey,” he said quietly. 

Hongjoong, of course, could not speak with the tube down his throat (and it was horrific to see him with his mouth openers around a little piece taped to keep it in place) but the hand Seonghwa was touching twitched, the clip on his finger tapping Seonghwa’s skin as Hongjoong slowly shifted his hand. It twitched. Shifted. Shifted. Slowly. Until his palm faced up and his fingers curled barely-touching around Seonghwa’s. 

It was silent, save for the hissing of hair being pushed into Hongjoong’s lungs. 

Seonghwa tried to swallow but it stuck in his throat. 

He should say something. He wanted to say something. Even just a “Glad you’re alive” but it all stuck in his throat- unable to work passed the lump that was slowly forming there. Seonghwa just curled his fingers back around Hongjoong’s- careful of the wires wrapped around it, and Hongjoong glanced down before returning to stare at Seonghwa groggily. 

He blinked. His eyes dragged over Seonghwa’s face, dull but something shining in them. They were soft. 

The shine grew. And when Hongjoong blinked next, a tear rolled down the side of his face, slipping from the  corner of his eye. 

Seonghwa’s chest lurched, and he shook his head quickly. “No,” he said quietly, leaning closer, ignoring the pinch in his side. “No- it’s okay, don’t-” 

He wasn’t crying violently. Just a small drip… drip… drip… out of the corner of his eyes, and Seonghwa’s other hand moved without thinking, swiping them away and brushing his hair back slightly.

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t cry- they’re gonna throw me out for stressing you out.” Seonghwa hushed him, but the tears had already finished falling as Hongjoong’s eyes fell shut softly. Seonghwa swallowed as Hongjoong’s fingers tightened around his (barely) for only a moment (all he was capable of) as if he were trying to squeeze his hand in some sort of message. The lump in his throat began to burn. “We’re okay,” he said quietly, stroking a hand through his hair, forgetting for just a moment about all the inhibitions he had come up with before. “I’m alive- you’re alive. We’re gonna be okay.” 

Another couple of tears escaped, and Seonghwa brushed them away quickly. Seonghwa could believe they were tears of relief. 

He wished Hongjoong could speak. Could say what was going through his mind, could clue Seonghwa in on what exactly it all meant, but Seonghwa set aside the confusion for just a moment and just sat there, holding Hongjoong’s hand and brushing through his hair gently. 

It was something Hongjoong had done to him before. But the gesture felt foreign in Seonghwa’s hands. Awkward. Stilted. But he did it anyway. 

Hongjoong’s eyes stayed closed, and eventually his fingers stopped holding onto Seonghwa’s, loosening and then falling away. He was either too tired to keep the grip up or he had fallen back asleep. 

Seonghwa felt his own eyes begin to sting. 

They were gonna be okay. 

Seonghwa rubbed his thumb over the back of Hongjoong’s hand, watching his chest rise and fall, felt his hand twitch once or twice. 

Haena came back in, whispering a quiet “Time to let him rest some more,” and Seonghwa simply nodded, carefully shifting his hand out from under Hongjoong’s and setting it carefully back on the sheets. 

“See?” she said, voice subdued but still hopeful. “He’ll be just fine. Within a couple of days, he should be right where you are now.” 

She rolled him away and out of the room. Seonghwa couldn’t bring himself to look back. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Wooyoung stopped by during the evening. 

“Hey,” he greeted, already reaching into his oversized hoodie and pulling out a chocolate bar. He set it on Seonghwa’s lap. “Don’t worry- I already checked with the cool nurses, and they said it won’t kill you to eat it.” 

Seonghwa smiled graciously, opening it slowly. 

“How’re you feeling?” Wooyoung asked, not sitting, just leaning against the wall. 

“Pretty good,” Seonghwa replied honestly. “I can’t really move my waist on my own, but it doesn’t hurt so much if someone helps me sit up.” He broke off a piece, letting it melt in his mouth as Wooyoung told the story of he and Yeosang getting stuck in traffic on the way home. 

“I checked by Hongjoong on the way here,” he said suddenly, earning Seonghwa’s full attention. “He was asleep, but the nurse said that he had woken up earlier today.” 

He nodded slowly. “I saw him. He was awake when I went in.” 

“How was he?” Wooyoung asked, voice oddly serious as he crossed his arms. 

“Tired. Out of it. They have him on some meds so he doesn’t freak out with the tube down his throat.” Seonghwa left out every intimate detail. 

Wooyoung hummed. “Well, Yunho says the guys from Hongjoong’s team want us to bring him some flowers since they’re still swamped over there. Yeosang wanted to bring them by tomorrow.” 

Seonghwa’s lips twitched. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.” 

Silence. Wooyoung frowned. “You know, one day you’re gonna have to actually tell us about what happened between you two.” 

Never, if Seonghwa could help it. He still didn’t know himself what happened to them. But he nodded. “One day.” 

Wooyoung scoffed, lips quirking. “You’re a pain in the ass, hyung. I gotta get going, but we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Thanks for the chocolate,” he said honestly because he was tired of mushed food. 

Wooyoung gave a sarcastic salute, exiting the room quietly. 

Seonghwa ate the rest of his chocolate bar. He didn’t want to ever have to explain what he and Hongjoong had gone through. Somehow it seemed more terrifying than all his nightmares before. 

He fell asleep. It wasn’t extremely restful. They were slowly weaning him off the pain meds and it was just uncomfortable enough to have him tossing and turning throughout the night, waking feeling still rested but sore. 

Haena came back in, smiling gently. “Good morning, Agent Park. How did you sleep?”

He muttered something vague as she checked over him, leaning him forward and checking the bandage under his shirt. “Oh, we’re looking good this morning!” She said brightly. “I think you and Agent Kim both have great immune systems.” 

Seonghwa stiffened. “Is he… okay?” 

Haena nodded as she wrote something on his chart. “Yes, he is. I’ve been keeping up on his progress and he woke up in a good mood this morning, and they’re planning to remove the ventilator after his check up this morning.” 

“Can I-“ 

Haena chuckled, cutting him off. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after the check up and post-check after removing the tube. But I’ll come get you as soon as he’s okay to be seen.”

And so sparked four hours of Seonghwa sitting in bed, staring at the pages of the book Haena had brought that they offered patients to keep them from going insane. He didn’t read anything. 

What should he do? Tell Hongjoong it was a mistake? It didn’t feel like a mistake. But he knew that it was. Because Hongjoong and he weren’t on the same page. Hongjoong was… 

He was in love or something. 

And Seonghwa was… just confused. He could never call what was in his chest ”love”. He didn’t know what it was. Love was a word that didn’t belong in his vocabulary. He couldn’t pick out love in a police line up, much less when all he could see inside his mind was question marks. 

They needed to talk. They needed to… figure out what the future was. The immediate threat was gone for now. And now, finally, now that there was no longer a hunt going on, Seonghwa’s largest concern was his and Hongjoong’s relationship. 

There were no more fights to hide behind. Seonghwa needed to start actually figuring himself out. Them out. Hongjoong out. 

But he couldn’t. Not right now. 

“Alrighty!” Haena announced right after the clock had struck into the afternoon. “Agent Kim is officially cleared for a visitor!” 

 Seonghwa’s peaceful panic was thrown into disarray again as she parked the wheelchair beside his bed. 

The uncomfortable pain in his back was distracting for a while. And then it faded as she roll him out of the room and down the hall. 

His heart pounded. 

Did he start off telling Hongjoong what he was thinking? No. Hongjoong was barely conscious for a day, he needed to let him have that time to recover. He would just… keep a distance. 

He couldn’t keep leading Hongjoong on, thinking that there would be more. Not when Seonghwa didn’t know what was his own problem and what was… 

He didn’t know. 

Haena pushed the door open. 

When they turned, Hongjoong was propped up on pillows and half-lifted bed. He tilted his head, still seeming tired but his eyes clearer. 

And Seonghwa’s heart tugged sickeningly  when his eyes brightened slightly when he caught sight of Seonghwa. 

“Just call when you’re ready to go,” Haena said brightly patting Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Don’t tucker him out too much,” she requested, offering one last smile before exiting the room. 

They stared at each other. Seonghwa probably looked so fucking stupid. 

Hongjoong’s lips twitched. “Hey,” he said, voice raspy and raw. “Did you know it h-“ he cleared his throat uncomfortably- “it hurts like a bitch to have a tube shoved down your throat?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes trailed over his tired face. 

“I thought you would have been used to having something down your throat…” 

A beat of silence. 

Hongjoong stared. Seonghwa felt something burning in the back of his throat. 

Hongjoong blinked. And then his shock broke as he chuckled gently, resting his head back. Seonghwa’s chest unlocked.  “I’d laugh harder but it already hurts,” he rasped. “You’re such an asshole,” he chuckled weakly. “I just woke up after almost dying and the first thing you do is make a dick joke?” 

Seonghwa swallowed, blood rushing icily with relief and fear. “You’ve made dick jokes in worse situations,”  he assured him, Hongjoong laughing under his breath. “And you made that one easy. “ 

His lips twitched. Seonghwa could not believe how fucking stupid he felt. 

How much he wanted to cheer Hongjoong up. 

How fucking easy it was becoming to be a completely different person in his presence. And not the raging asshole he used to be with him. 

Hongjoong swallowed, wincing. “I guess I did make it too easy.” He looked over at Seonghwa and his eyes were gentle. 

Too gentle. 

Seonghwa looked away. 

It was too soon. 

“How are you holding up?” Hongjoong rasped. He flexed his finger weakly. 

Seonghwa shrugged. “Pretty good.” He wet his lips. “I didn’t know you got shot until after I woke up in here, so that was a bit of a situation, but otherwise everything is turning out okay.” 

He hummed. “Good. You scared the shit out of me. People stay… really still when they pass out.”

That made two of them. 

Seonghwa swallowed sharply. “I’m glad you’re okay.” It was genuine. It was… surprisingly easy to say. He shifted forward, letting his hands rest on the bed as he was close enough to rest his head against Hongjoong’s.  He didn’t. 

Seonghwa jumped when a cool hand touched his gently. 

He looked up sharply. Hongjoong watched him, eyes shining. “Will you…” He coughed airily, swallowing uncomfortably. His fingers squeezed Seonghwa’s, a little stronger than before  “I don’t… know if…” He stopped, turning his head away. “Sorry,” he rasped. His fingers pressed against Seonghwa’s hand gently. 

And somehow, Seonghwa read the signs. 

And the part of his brain that said to push away was nowhere to be found as he watched Hongjoong’s gentle eyes close, almost as if preparing for a blow. 

Seonghwa shifted forward slightly. 

Hongjoong tilted his head back toward him, looking nervous, and Seonghwa’s mouth was dry. 

What the fuck happened to keeping a distance?

It was… difficult. Awkward with the angle of a wheelchair and a bed, but between the two of them… between Hongjoong’s gentle eyes and Seonghwa’s alarmingly fragile resolve in the face of… just  _ him- _

It was so much easier to try and be rational when he wasn’t face to face with warm eyes and soft touches. 

Seonghwa kissed him gently. They couldn’t make it much farther than a soft touch of lips but Seonghwa’s hair stood on end as Hongjoong brought up a gentle hand to touch his cheek. 

Seonghwa’s lungs constricted painfully as Hongjoong breathed against his lips. 

It was such a useless kiss, nothing more than a touch of their lips but warmth spread out to the tips of his fingers. 

God, it was so much easier to pretend it was fake or twisted when he wasn’t feeling ready to cry as pressure released from his chest. 

It was so easy to pretend it was vapid when Seonghwa wasn’t about to crumble before Hongjoong who looked at him as if he were something fucking ethereal. 

Hongjoong pushed him away, breathing heavily, but didn’t let go to let him pull away. “Sorry,” he panted, “my lungs are currently fucked up.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes were burning. Hongjoong stared at him as if he didn’t mind suffocating against Seonghwa. 

But he kissed Seonghwa again, gentle and soft and not desperate but relieved. “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay,” he whispered against his lips before sealing them again. 

His lips moved against his softly, and Seonghwa had to lift a hand to thread gingerly through Hongjoong hair just giving in to the push and desire to touch him, to feel him warm and breathing and soft against Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong sighed, content and soft, hand flexing on Seonghwa’s cheek. He traced patterns on Seonghwa’s cheek, just touching because he could. Because he wanted to. 

Seonghwa really hated how tight his chest was. But he was only able to focus on the warmth radiating from his core, seeming to wrap around them in a bubble. Only the two of them, just like before, without a world outside of them to remind Seonghwa of his hesitancies and anxieties-

“ _ Hyung-! _ “

“Holy  _ fuck _ !” 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong ripped apart, startled and hyper-responsive. Seonghwa’s back jarred slightly at the quick turn, but it was pennies compared to seeing Yeosang and Wooyoung in the doorway, a bouquet of daisies and baby’s breaths sitting on the floor from Yeosang’s loose grip.

Seonghwa felt as if he was breathing in water. 

Both looked as if they had been violently slapped across the face. 

The four stared at each other. 

Like four forces pushing against each other but none of them giving. 

“I didn’t fucking think  _ this _ was what  _ “a lot of shit”  _ meant,  _ hyung _ !” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! All my busy stuff is starting to dwindle down, so maybe I’ll actually be able to update a bit quicker? Maybe.  
> I’m really sorry to not have a more consistent update time, but I’ll keep trying to get them as quick as possible.   
> But I think I’ll only have one more chapter and then an epilogue? Maybe?  
> Honestly this was not supposed to even be this long but I got swept away ㅇ_ㅇ  
> But I hope it wasn’t too disappointing!  
> Until next update!  
> -SS  
> (You can yell at me on Twitter or curious cat @_SinisterSound_!!!) (THANK YOU TO ALL THE LOVELY PEOPLE WHO HAVE MESSAGED ME ALREADY YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING!)


	6. A Shitty (?) Fucking Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost been a week and it’s not even that hard of a chapter to write I just got so swamped with work and life, so I apologize for that, but here’s what I have for your guys!   
> Thank you for waiting and all the lovely things you’ve sent me while I’m writing- it all means so much!   
> I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!   
> -SS

Seonghwa felt vaguely like the world was ending. 

Perhaps a tad bit dramatic, but what else could he feel, his lips still tingling from Hongjoong’s and Yeosang and Wooyoung staring at him as if they had just seen him stab a man in the chest in cold blood. 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong rasped, a barely whisper, clearly not meant to be heard by someone other than him. It wasn’t a warning. It was almost nervous. A quiet, offering question of “What do we do?” 

Seonghwa stared at the two of them, Wooyoung seeming outraged, and Yeosang looking as if he had just been punched in the gut. 

Seonghwa wet his lips. 

“Wooyoung,” he said, voice echoing in his ears. “Can you wheel me outside? Yeosang, can you get the door for us?” 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong repeated.  What are we going to do? 

Seonghwa glanced back at Hongjoong- and his eyes weren’t nervous, but they were startled, still disoriented after waking up, having the ventilator removed, and still being on several different kinds of drugs. Seonghwa wanted to rest his hand on his again, say somethings reassuring, but his body was acting as he had just stepped into a live fire fight. 

No time for gentle reassurances. Just the mission. 

“I’ll be right back,” he did say, and he turned back to Wooyoung, lifting what he hoped was an expectant eyebrow. 

Wooyoung stepped forward, eyes glancing between the two of them and there wasn’t disgust or anger, there was just so much confusion, and part of Seonghwa felt smug because yeah, let him taste what it felt like for a while. 

But apparently, yet again, Hongjoong was a braver man than he, and Seonghwa felt cool fingers brush his arm. A fleeting, but undoubtedly comforting touch, despite the fact that Seonghwa didn’t turn back. 

Wooyoung gripped the handles of the wheelchair and maneuvered him away, back to the door that Yeosang held open. Yeosang didn’t look at him. He stared at Hongjoong, expression impassive but calculating. 

Seonghwa was too much of a coward to try and turn to see what Hongjoong looked like. Wooyoung pushed him through the door, stopping just outside it. Yeosang allowed the door to close, stepping down to them. 

No sooner than Wooyoung had released Seonghwa’s chair and walked around to face him did the pressure building escape. 

“ _ Hyung, what the actual- _ ”

Seonghwa jumped slightly when Yeosang grabbed Wooyoung’s hand firmly, cutting him off. When Wooyoung turned to glare at him for stopping his rant, Yeosang simply shook his head, turning to Seonghwa with hard eyes that were slightly scolding. 

“What happened, hyung?” Yeosang asked calmly. “Not 24 hours ago, we left you and Hongjoong ready to kill each other in your sleep. I’ve spent my entire time at KQ listening to you go off about how much you hate him. And unless we’ve both gone blind, we just saw the two of you kissing.” 

Seonghwa winced. Yeosang’s eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t address it. 

“So what suddenly changed?” he asked. “Was that… what it looked like?” 

Seonghwa, despite the gentle voice and non-accusing eyes, wanted to run. Because what could he say to them if he didn’t know it himself? Hongjoong told him he didn’t have to know, but clearly that was wrong because the one thing he didn’t know was the one thing people kept demanding answers on. 

Was it what it looked like? What did it look like? Loving? Lustful? Fake? Real? 

It was terrifying. 

“I…” 

Wooyoung glared, but it wasn’t angry. It was just confused and coming out in the way Wooyoung knew how. The same way that Yeosang’s confusion came out in soft frowns and hard eyes that gave nothing away. 

They weren’t field agents, but they were agents. 

Seonghwa didn’t meet Yeosang’s eyes, staring at his knees. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” Seonghwa said quietly, stomach rolling. 

“You don’t… know?” Wooyoung asked, calmer for Yeosang’s hand squeezing his in warning. “You don’t know what? What happened? What that was?” 

Seonghwa sighed, scrubbing at his eyes. “I just don’t-” He groaned. He never wanted to have to talk about it before he got himself figured out. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, put him or Hongjoong in a position they didn’t want to be in. 

“Start at the beginning, hyung,” Yeosang requested, eyes flitting back and forth from worried and concerned to disbelieving. “When did this start?” 

Seonghwa knew he should tell them. That didn’t mean he wanted to. “I am going to start talking,” Seonghwa spoke into his hands. “And I need both of you not to say anything until I’m done. I am going to tell you everything I know. And I can’t tell you any more than that because I  _ don’t know  _ yet.” 

He could feel them glancing at each other, but Wooyoung muttered a quiet “Okay, hyung.” 

And Seonghwa was true to his word. He told them. From the moment he stepped into Hongjoong’s apartment. Realizing that he may have been wrong. The small things he had noticed. The fights they had. Running. Trusting. Tears, smiles, soft touches, confusion, lies, hiding, hotel rooms, fear, shot, blood, dying- 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, voice hoarse after speaking for minutes. It wasn’t a lengthy story, but it told everything that he was comfortable saying out loud. He left out the more... Intimate things that he and Hongjoong had revealed. All he said was that they talked about some parts of their lives. “I don’t know what it is he feels for me, but I know… I know that it can’t be the same thing I feel for him. And it feels wrong… trying to act like it’s the same. He… He deserves something better than three days not wanting to kill in him exchange for fucking  _ years _ . But I still want it, you know?” 

And that, more than anything, was the root of Seonghwa’s problem. It was wrong of him to try and compete with Hongjoong’s reactions, Hongjoong’s emotions…. Because his own were so vapid compared to them. 

He had  _ hated  _ Hongjoong. Really and truly. He said horrible things that he meant, and he could not just erase all that. Could not just forgive that because he knew Hongjoong liked him the whole time. In fact, it made it even more inexcusable. 

“That’s a lot of stuff for four or five days, hyung,” Yeosang murmured, expression open and troubled. “Like… that’s a large process to go through…And as much as I want to slap you for a lot of things, I just feel kinda bad for you right now.” 

Seonghwa could only nod. He felt like he was going Mach 15 with no seatbelt. But he looked up at the two of them, and Yeosang’s eyes weren’t quite so cold, just calculating. And Wooyoung wasn’t glaring, he had his lips pressed together as if physically restraining himself from speaking. “You’re being… awfully level about this,” he noted. He had expected a burst of outrage as soon as he finished speaking, but even their expression were subdued.

Yeosang huffed a shallow laugh. “You’re not a kid, hyung. Really, we have no right to say anything about it. You went through this, you get to make the decision what comes from it. We just… feel a certain way about it.” 

Seonghwa wet his lips, glancing between them. “And… how do you feel about it?” 

He was worried. Because Wooyoung and Yeosang were his friends. Lower in rank, but higher than Eden on the list of people he didn’t want to disappoint.  

“Are we allowed to speak now?” Wooyoung asked, cocking an eyebrow, shoulders tightening.  Seonghwa nodded, bracing himself. “Can I speak?” He asked Yeosang petulantly. 

“Only if you don’t sound like a dumbass when you do,” Yeosang allowed. 

Wooyoung turned back to Seonghwa, lax expression twisting in a glare again. “ _ Of fucking course  _ it isn’t the same, hyung!” he snapped. Seonghwa expected Yeosang to try and stop him, but apparently he agreed this time. 

“The timing, the circumstances- you both came to the same conclusion, but the way around it was completely different!” He wasn’t yelling, but Seonghwa still winced at the sharp tone. “It’s not going to be the same. It’s not  _ supposed  _ to be the same! That doesn’t make what you feel any less real than him. It just makes it rougher around the edges. He’s had time to get his shit sorted. You haven’t. And if you  think he doesn’t fucking know that, you’ve been covering your eyes this entire time.” 

He nodded once, firmly, like a period. 

Seonghwa glanced at Yeosang from his fuming counterpart, who simply shrugged, cold eyes softened. “He’s right, hyung. But I understand and support all your inhibitions. And you’re right, a lot of shit went down in a very short amount of time. But why are you acting like you have to sleep with him in the next 48 hours?” 

Seonghwa frowned. 

Yeosang sighed. “You have  _ time _ , hyung. You don’t have to know everything right now. You can figure it out. Where, exactly do you think you could go within the next week? What do you think you could do, in both your conditions? It’s just the two of you and a whole lot of down time, hyung.” 

“Has Hongjoong said anything about all this?” Wooyoung asked, tilting his head. 

Seonghwa snorted slightly, scrubbing his face. “Where did we have time to talk about this? We went from step one to getting shot to being in a hospital.” 

“Well, there’s your fucking issue,” Wooyoung sighed. “You keep acting like you have no reason to be confused, but you haven’t  _ talked  _ to him at all about  _ any  _ of this, hyung. Just talk to him. The threat’s neutralized, you’re both alive, and he’s coherent enough to not giggle at everything you say.” And something in Wooyoung’s eyes softened behind the front of anger. “You don’t have to have the answers right now. But you can get them. But first, you need him to understand. He can’t do anything if you keep him in the dark.” 

Seonghwa was expecting… a lot  more yelling. Not quite so much supportive counseling. 

Yeosang rubbed his forehead behind Wooyoung, eyes closing. “I can’t believe after eight years, the two of you are fuc-” 

“We are not!” Seonghwa burst, glaring, and Wooyoung snickered. 

“I had to sit for so many years, listening to you rant about him-” 

“Oh, don’t act like this is something you saw coming,” Seonghwa scoffed. 

Yeosang lowered his hand, and his lips were quirked, but his eyes were serious. “I knew that you couldn’t leave him alone. Whether it was hate or not, the two of you were inseparable, and I knew that was going to go somewhere. Whether it was shooting each other or hate sex, I didn’t know. As it turns out, it was neither.” 

Seonghwa knew that Yeosang loved to complain at length about his issues with Hongjoong, but he hadn’t quite realized he was practically waiting for something like this to happen. Part of him almost wished he had just stuck to hate sex. At least then, he could leave behind any sort of attachment. 

Except that he didn’t. Because then, he would have lived a life falsely hating a man who didn’t deserve it. And that killed him more than his own confusion ever could. 

(“Noble pride,” a snickering voice whispered in the back of his mind.)

“I can’t believe Hongjoong’s been crushing on someone like you for that long,” Wooyoung muttered. “You’re an asshole.” 

Yeosang flicked him, and Wooyoung glared, but Seonghwa couldn’t agree more. 

What the hell did he even say to Hongjoong? How did he even try to quantify what was raging inside of him? 

Did he want to kiss Hongjoong? Yes. Did he want to keep being able to do that? Yes. Did he want to build an outside-work relationship with Hongjoong? Probably. Was this the most terrifying thought Seonghwa had ever had in his entire damn life? Absolutely. 

“All the times we saw him in the vid feeds, all the shit you told us- I never would have thought he was the ‘wanting to settle down’ kind of guy. It’s kind of cute, though,” Wooyoung noted, as if Seonghwa were not still having a mental fucking crisis. “In a disgusting, soft way. God, I never thought the two of you were able to be  _ soft _ .” 

“We aren’t-” 

“Hyung,” Yeosang broke in, staring sternly, but his lips twitching. “I don’t know if you’re fucking blind, but Hongjoong looks at you like…” He hesitated. “Hyung, he  _ likes  _ you.” 

And Seonghwa was hesitant to use the term ‘soft.’ That sounded… pure and shit. They weren’t. There was too much dark, twisted reasoning behind their gentle touches to be called that. 

They were quiet, gentle, testing, hesitant…. Out of fear. Fear of being hurt, of hurting the other, of accidentally crossing a line they couldn’t see, of going in too deep and not being able to get out, of trusting and being betrayed, of risking and being harmed. 

It wasn’t soft. It was terrifying. 

So much more than emotional vulnerability rode on their backs. This falling through didn’t just lead to broken hearts and tubs of ice cream on the couch. Both of them needed to hand so much to the other, if they wanted to be able to make this work. And if they dropped what they had been handed… if they tripped and sent it all crashing to the ground… 

Neither of them would be able to recover from that. This was an all-or-nothing situation. And Seonghwa wanted to throw up each time he thought about it. 

“And you like him.” 

Seonghwa jerked back to reality as Wooyoung’s lips turned upwards. “What-” 

“Hyung, we aren’t blind, even if you are,” Wooyoung assured him. “We saw you two for a second, and it’s easy to tell… well, actually, no,” he decided, shaking his head. “This entire time you’ve been in the hospital… it was easy to see how much you’d changed. Without Hongjoong ever being mentioned, something was different. And I still can’t tell you what it is, but… listen, hyung… if this is the one thing in your shitty life that you decided to take such a big risk on? Don’t fucking let it go.” 

Seonghwa wasn’t. He had gotten this far, he wasn’t about to back out now after handing over half his cards. He was just going to-

“Don’t let being scared stop you,” Wooyoung pressed. “You’re paranoid, hyung. You’re careful. And the fact that you already let it get this far is amazing, but don’t… don’t do anything stupid because of what you think might happen.” 

Something stupid like telling Hongjoong they couldn’t be together because Seonghwa was an asshole? 

“You do like him, don’t you, hyung?” Yeosang questioned quietly. 

_ Seonghwa tightened his grip on Hongjoong and twisted, his back facing the window, shoving his head down against his chest-  _

Like. 

What a shallow word. “Like” was not what you attributed to the person you had put your life in the hands of. “Like” was not that person you bared your soul to, expected to be ridiculed and only being accepted. “Like” was not what their fear was. “Like” was high school crushes and giggling as they passed by. 

But what they had was not long enough, strong enough to be called “love.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t name it. And that was his biggest problem. He needed labels. He needed nice and neat and easily accessible in a combat situation. Not this grey area and missing letters. 

“I… want this,” he said instead, making Yeosang frown. Because of course, neither Wooyoung or Yeosang could understand. They never could. But that was okay. They didn’t need to. “Whatever it is… whatever we call it… I… want to keep it.” 

It felt silly. It felt stupid. 

But Yeosang simply nodded his head slowly. “Than you’d better be prepared to hold on tight, hyung.” 

Was that not what he was doing? He was holding on tight, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that what getting shot was all about? He was… 

Or was he just dancing again? Holding on, smiling, playing the game… and then snatching his hand away when Hongjoong looked at him with gentle eyes. When he started thinking that maybe this wasn’t right. When his own confusion made him wary. 

He was still playing a game, wasn’t he? A game because he was too cautious- too  _ scared-  _ to keep his feet in the water. While Hongjoong had been swimming in the deep end for a while. 

“No, really, you and  _ Hongjoong- _ ” 

Yeosang pinched Wooyoung’s hip, making him yelp, and Seonghwa managed to quirk his lips. It was surreal. The bubble had been popped. Their softest underbellies exposed to these two before him. These two who offered him a gentle smile. 

Seonghwa’s eyes drifted to their slightly-too-close stances, their mirrored movements, their echoed smiles… 

“Do you want to go back in, hyung?” Yeosang asked. “We sort of… interrupted you before.” 

Seonghwa had promised Hongjoong he would be right back. It had probably been close to half an hour they’d been gone, and he hoped that Hongjoong’s didn’t think he had run off. He nodded. 

He was still scared. And he really couldn’t try and find a better word for the black hole in his chest. He was scared, wanted to hide under the blankets and wait for the thunderstorm to fade. He wanted to venture out when it was clear skies and mild breezes… 

But life was never that convenient, was it? It could never be that easy. 

“Sorry for yelling like that,” Wooyoung sighed after a pointed glare from Yeosang, “but to be fair, it was a justified reaction, given everything we knew.” He chuckled. “When I said for you to get your shit together with him, this wasn’t what I exactly meant.” He offered Seonghwa a smirk, and really, this is not the sort of conversation he thought they would be having. “I wish you would have told us  _ something  _ was changing, though.” 

Seonghwa huffed softly. “If you think you’re surprised, I want you to try and imagine how I feel.” 

Wooyoung took Seonghwa’s chair by the handles. “Hyung, you’re such a fucking routine junkie, I would pay money to see the look on your face as you slowly watch everything you once knew start to crumble. We could put it up on Yeosang’s big screen. I’m sure Hongjoong’s team would bring some popcorn.” 

Seonghwa didn’t even want to think about what he looked like through all of this. “Wooyoung,” He chuckled. “When I get full mobility back, I’m going to put you in this wheelchair.” 

“I’ve got weeks to poke and prod you, hyung,” Wooyoung snickered in his ear. “And then at the last second-  _ Boom _ . Witness protection. You’ll never see me again.” 

Yeosang held the door open, rolling his eyes. “And knowing you, you’ll try and drag me along with you, despite me being innocent of all charges.” He stopped the wheelchair with a hand on the armrest, eyes still light, but clouded. “This conversation isn’t over, hyung,” he murmured quietly. “If you think this isn’t going to require a major conversation on who you finally allowed in and thawing your cold dead heart, the blood loss must have given you brain damage.” 

And Seonghwa didn’t shrink. He smiled gently. Because it was Yeosang, who sat next to him in his cubicle, wondering when he was finally going to actually try and get a significant other, and showing him Tinder profiles from his phone with eager demands of “He’s cute, right?” 

Yeosang was probably fucking ecstatic despite his confusion at it being  _ Hongjoong _ . 

“As soon as I know, you’ll find out,” Seonghwa assured him. 

Yeosang nodded, allowing Wooyoung to push Seonghwa back into the room. He half-expected Hongjoong to have fallen asleep, and while his eyes seemed a little heavier than before, he perked back up sluggishly, blinking away the lethargy, eyes trailing from Wooyoung to Seonghwa to Yeosang in the doorway. 

He swallowed. Seonghwa tried to offer some sort of comforting or reassuring gaze, but he didn’t think he succeeded. Wooyoung parked the chair, and Seonghwa went to say goodbye, but was surprised when Wooyoung stepped around to stand beside his chair, up against Hongjoong’s bed. 

“Wooyoung, wh-” 

He leaned down, hands resting on the bed and glaring. “If you fucking hurt our hyung, even the best agents will never find your bod-” 

Yeosang was suddenly there, thin fingers pinching Wooyoung’s ear and dragging him away from the bed, ignoring his cries to let go. “Now is not the time to be giving the shotgun speech,” Yeosang hissed, pushing him towards the door. “I swear, I can’t take you anywhere-” He glanced back, not smiling, but grimacing. “We’ll go now. Excuse him, he’s an idiot.” 

Wooyoung tried to combat the accusation, but Yeosang shoved him from the room with a short call of “We’ll see you later, hyung!” 

The door closed. 

Silence followed. 

Seonghwa’s face was burning. Well, all of him sort of was, his blood thrumming too quickly. He turned back to Hongjoong who was still staring tiredly, but his lips curled up slightly. 

“At first,” he rasped slowly, trying to fight the pain in his throat and lungs, “I thought they were going to convince you to… stop  _ this _ .” He didn’t name whatever ‘this’ was either. Seonghwa felt a little better for that. He swallowed. “But that threat almost sounded… like they accepted it.” 

Maybe they did. It was Seonghwa who hadn’t. “Hongjoong…” He perked up slightly at his name, trying to lift an eyebrow, but it just twitched. “Hongjoong, there are a lot of things we need to talk about.” 

He shrank back only slightly, frowning the tiniest bit. “Yeah,” he whispered slowly. “I guess we do.” 

“Now isn’t the time for that conversation,” Seonghwa assured him. Hongjoong was in no condition to try and discuss something that in depth and taxing. “But I wanted to let you know… just so that we’re on the same page.” 

Hongjoong chuckled gently at that, wincing and touching his throat. “Seonghwa, you and I are always on the same page… we’re just reading different books.” 

Touche. 

He didn’t want to smile, but his lips twitched anyway. But it faded quickly. “Hongjoong… we aren’t having this discussion now, but I need to know if you understand... I can’t be as invested in… whatever this is,” he gestured between them, “as you are. I physically can’t. I haven’t had the time or experience to sort everything out.” 

Hongjoong frowned. “I know that,” he said, as if it should have been obvious. “Seonghwa, it took me fucking years to get my shit sorted, how the hell could I expect you to-” He coughed, which only made him groan in pain, a hand coming to rub at his throat as he clenched his teeth. 

“Alright,” Seonghwa said quickly, calmingly, a hand coming out on instinct to rest on Hongjoong’s that lay on the bed. “As long as you understand,” he said firmly. Hongjoong nodded, still grimacing. Seonghwa wet his lips. “But despite that… I want it.” 

_ Would you call me crazy… _

“I don’t know what  _ it  _ is,” Seonghwa whispered, staring at their hands. 

_ If you did what? _

“I don’t know what you think you feel. Whether it’s love or infatuation, or if you’re as lost to a name for it as I am.” 

_ If I said I wanted this? _

“But I know that… despite everything… all the years we have behind us… I want  _ this _ .” He squeezed Hongjoong’s hand gently. 

_ Wanted what? _

“I… I want to have this… with you.” 

_ To stay like this. _

Seonghwa wanted what Hongjoong was offering. But he also couldn’t see any sort of way for him to get it without Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong understood. 

Hongjoong had been through it all, same as him. 

Hongjoong had gone through the same training, the same shit, the same horrors, the same angers…

But different ones. Ones Seonghwa never had. Different horrors, different shit… And Seonghwa had ones that Hongjoong didn’t have. 

They were different. They were the same. 

“Whatever this winds up being,” he whispered, “I think my only chance of getting out of it alive… is you.” 

He finally risked a glance up, and was not surprised to see Hongjoong with his eyes closed, cheeks wet, and face wrinkled with the force he tried to clench his eyes shut to keep the tears inside. 

His hand shook under Seonghwa’s. Seonghwa stopped just resting his hand against Hongjoong’s, and wrapped his fingers around him tightly, giving a comforting squeeze as his chest tightened. 

Maybe his brain still thought he hated Hongjoong, maybe it wasn’t quite up to speed with everything- 

But his body apparently was already attached, his eyes stinging for no other reason than Hongjoong’s cracked expression that Seonghwa had never seen before, not even in his darkest moment. He took a shuddered breath, squeezing Seonghwa’s hand weakly and using his other to cover his eyes, like it would hide everything from Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s vision blurred, but he blinked back the hot burn. 

Hongjoong held part of Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa held part of Hongjoong. 

They were already intertwined. Already never going to be able to leave each other behind. 

Seonghwa thought he could back out of this? That he could tell Hongjoong they had too much history? That he could turn his back and walk away?

He thought he was standing in the shallow waters, testing and safe, but somehow, he had missed the riptide coming through, pulling him out to sea. He hadn’t realized how far the shore had gotten. Had let himself think- just a little farther and then I’ll turn back, just a little farther, just a little- 

And he was foolish enough to think he was a strong enough swimmer to go against the current. Thought he could fight his way back to solid ground. He had just been tiring himself out. Fighting a losing battle. 

He had been fooling himself. 

He rubbed a thumb over the back of Hongjoong’s hand. They still needed a conversation. But at least now.... Maybe they had found the same book? Same book, different editions, maybe? Seonghwa was a little desperate for whatever he could get. 

He tried to hush Hongjoong, warning him again that Seonghwa was going to get kicked out if he stressed him out to much. 

Hongjoong only nodded, scrubbing at his eyes, taking in short breath after short breath that his lungs fought him for. 

How long, exactly, had Hongjoong been waiting? Waiting on Seonghwa? To hear him say something like this? 

Hongjoong’s tears dried, and he slowly lowered a hand, swallowing thickly.

He looked different. 

Lighter, maybe. His eyes bore into Seonghwa’s, wetting his lips, his fingers interlocking with Seonghwa’s. 

“What about that dinner?” Hongjoong whispered hoarsely. 

Seonghwa frowned. 

Hongjoong managed a watery smile. “I told you not to skip out,” he scolded. “I got us out of there alive. You owe me dinner.” 

Seonghwa blinked, the voices flitting back into his mind, and he stared. Snorted. And he couldn’t help it- he laughed. 

The first real laugh he had in… what- weeks? Something not a snort or a huff, but a laugh. And maybe he looked insane, but Seonghwa didn’t think the reality of it all hit him until that moment. 

They were alive and he owed Hongjoong dinner. 

Maybe the relief made his chest hollow, made him lightheaded, like he was losing his mind. 

But Hongjoong’s eyes were bright as he smiled gently at Seonghwa. Like he had found the perfect flower while walking along a path. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh like that.” 

He said it with the tone of someone carefully filing away information, burning the sight and sound into his mind, to never forget it, never let it fade, in case it never appeared again. 

Seonghwa thought the intimate note would make him pause, but he just smiled, still a little high on relief and laughter. 

“You’re currently still on hospital pudding,” he reminded Hongjoong. “But after we’re both out of here, I will take you out to dinner, Hongjoong.” 

He nodded firmly. “Only because I want a special dinner. Otherwise, I’d make you take me out to the hospital cafeteria.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, shaking his head. “I think getting us out of there constitutes something better than hospital food.” 

Hongjoong hummed. “I did a shit job of it, though. If he had shot before I’d called Yeosang, you-” 

“We,” Seongha broke in firmly, his expression not heavy but somber. “ _ We  _ could have died, Hongjoong.” 

And for a  moment, it looked like Hongjoong might say something. But he just wet his lips and nodded. 

“But we didn’t,” Seonghwa said. “And that’s all that matters. The process doesn’t matter, only the ending.” 

Quiet. 

“Does that apply to you, too?” Hongjoong asked, leaning back against his pillows. 

“What do you mean?” Seonghwa questioned, frowning. 

“The process doesn’t matter, only the ending.” He wet his lips. “Does it matter how we got here?” He squeezed Seonghwa’s hand weakly. “All that matters is the ending, right?” 

Seonghwa felt like he’s been punched in the gut. 

Did it matter the years of hating? Did it matter how quickly he changed his mind? 

Wasn’t all that matter was that he had reached the same conclusion: that whatever it was between them, he wanted? 

No. 

“The process doesn’t matter,” Seonghwa said slowly, chewing his lip. “But the process leaves scars, Hongjoong. We’re alive right now, but look at us-” He gestured to his wheelchair, to Hongjoong’s tired form. “The only thing that matters is that we’re alive. But that doesn’t negate what consequences came from that.” He swallowed. “The only thing that matters is that you and I have reached a similar conclusion. But that doesn’t negate all the consequences that came from the process.  _ Everything  _ we talked about Hongjoong…”

He shook his head. 

“Everything that’s wrong with you… Everything that’s wrong with me… Everything we’ve done to each other… That doesn’t disappear.” 

It had to be addressed. Had to be discussed and taken apart. Seonghwa couldn’t just let that sit. It would drive him insane. 

“But this is for that conversation,” Seonghwa assured him, tightening his grip on Hongjoong’s hand a little. “For now… let’s just focus on being alive.” 

They fell into a silence. It was broken only in small increments with Hongjoong asking one question or another about things he didn’t remember from the hotel room. Seonghwa and he compared notes, and found that everyone’s conclusions were basically correct. More silence. 

Haena came in some time later, smiling with her hands on her hips. “There you are,” she said brightly. “I thought I’d find you in here.” She stepped over. “I hate to break it up, but it’s dinner time and Agent Kim has a check up for his throat and lungs due, so it’s time to say goodbye.” 

If Haena noticed or cared about their intertwined fingers, she made no indication so. She simply stood back as Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong, offering a half smile. “I’ll see you later,” he murmured. 

Hongjoong nodded, and Seonghwa wondered if Haena wasn’t there, if he or Hongjoong would have tried to kiss each other. But Haena started rolling Seonghwa away, and this time, he did try and look back. 

Hongjoong smiled serenely. As if he had nothing better to do than watch Seonghwa. 

The door shut between them, and Haena made her usual small talk. “Did you have a good time visiting with Agent Kim?”

Seonghwa stared at his lap, flexing his hands. He felt… grounded. Peaceful, almost. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, I did.” 

 

~~~~~~

 

Eden showed up in Seonghwa’s hospital room right as Haena was finishing up his physical therapy. 

She held his hands, urging him to work his stomach and back muscles to sit up on his own, only providing a safety net to stop him when his muscles eventually gave out. 

So far, out of 20, he had made it 8 times on his own without falling back against his pillows. Walking was easier, but more exhausting somehow. Seonghwa was sweaty, he was probably pale and gross, and Eden smiled at him from the doorway like the whole thing was very amusing. 

Haena said they’d take a break before going again that evening. 

Eden sat in the chair beside Seonghwa’s bed, fingers lacing and elbows resting on his knees. “Well… when I sent you out on that mental health leave, I didn’t expect to find you worse than I left you.” 

Seonghwa managed a tired grin. The relief at finding Eden completely innocent of everything that went on was… a huge weight off his shoulders. “Well, when you last saw me, I hadn’t just been hit in a major abdominal area.” 

Eden hummed, nodding as it Seonghwa had made a good point he hadn’t thought of. He glanced him over once. Twice. “I’m sorry.” 

It was a jarring statement even if it wasn’t a rarity. Seonghwa was mostly just wondering the question that blurted out of his mouth: “ _ Why _ ?”

Eden sighed, leaning back in the chair. “I should have known something was going on. I should have figured something suspicious was going on with Gong. I should have stopped you, or at least given a warning. I should had said screw the higher ups and sent people out to you. I should have done something more than comfort my poor decisions with statements that you and Hongjoong were good at what you did and could make it on your own.” 

His eyes trailed over Seonghwa’s hospital bed, leaning away from warm and tinging with self-disappointment. “What you and Hongjoong accomplished on your own is admirable, and I’m sorry I did nothing to help it.” 

Seonghwa didn’t blame Eden. He had never considered the agency being against him, either. But he simply nodded because Eden was in charge and he had responsibilities that he took very seriously. “We made it out alive. And we weren’t alone. Yeosang and Wooyoung were a great help.” 

Eden’s lips twitched. “Yes, I was looking over their reports of the whole incident. These passed few days have been nothing but the two of them finding dark corners to gossip in. I heard your name a few times, so it’s probably about you.” 

If Yeosang and Wooyoung put it around the office about him and Hongjoong, Seonghwa was going to kill them.

“I can’t wait to be back at work with them. I can barely stand them when they visit here,” Seonghwa sighed, leaning back against his pillows. “Have you stopped in by Hongjoong yet?” 

Eden’s eyes met Seonghwa’s and he didn’t look away. Seonghwa realized that Yeosang and Wooyoung weren’t his worst enemy: his own damn mouth was. 

“I did,” Eden said casually, leaning forward. “And after seeing both of you, I can only come to the conclusion that this little… adventure you had… did some pretty big modifications to both of you.” 

Seonghwa’s heart stopped in his chest. 

It wasn’t… necessarily “against the rules” for agents to be in a relationship, it just required special permission. But the higher ups wanted no chance of bad break ups or emotional compromising, so they rarely approved a request unless the two were special cases, like only office work or someone very high up in the rankings with the Board. That didn’t stop the occasional one night stand or office fling, though. 

Which meant that Hongjoong and he, as two of the top field agents, would never get that sort of clearance. And somehow, Seonghwa forgot about that until this moment. 

But Eden smiled. “I make it my business… to not get into all my agents’ businesses. I control your work life and nothing more. As long as I don’t see anything happening with your work life… I have not reason to look into your personal life. Understand?” 

Seonghwa nodded numbly. Jesus Christ, could he stop getting heart attacks? “I- We-” 

Eden lifted a hand. “Listen… if whatever happened-  _ whatever  _ it may be- causes both of you to look like  _ this- _ ” he pointed at Seonghwa’s face- “then I’m all for it as long as things don’t start getting nasty.” 

He resisted the urge to touch his face, wondering what sort of “this” he could mean, but Seonghwa nodded automatically. Had Eden… just given them his blessing? 

Eden inclined his head. “Now, slightly less pleasant, but just as good of news: you’ve heard about the investigations that have been going on, right?” 

“Yeosang told me they were happening,” he confirmed. 

Eden’s expression was a mixture of quiet and angry. “Well, most of them have been concluded, and there are currently six upper Board members who have been exposed for bribery, colluding with gangs, and accepting payoffs to turn the other way. They’ve left some pretty big holes, but we’re working on filling them. People are being brought in, some are being promoted…” He trailed off. “They want to promote me into being one of the higher ups.” 

Seonghwa blinked. Eden? At such a young age? “You accepted?” 

Eden hummed non committedly. “I don’t necessarily want such a… boring job, but I told them that I would take it one condition.” 

“Which is?” Seonghwa questioned. 

Eden pointed. “I want you taking my place at the head of our branch.” 

Seonghwa balked, feeling like someone had just punched the injury on his back. He must have heard wrong. “Me?” Eden nodded. “Take- Take your place?” Seonghwa couldn’t do Eden’s job. Only Eden could do Eden’s job. 

Seonghwa was an asshole. He couldn’t keep a peace, he couldn’t direct so many people. He was too paranoid, too trigger happy, too angry, too- 

Too scared. 

Eden sighed. “I know it’s a lot to ask. And I’m not asking. If you want the job, it’s yours and I’ll take the Board seat. If not… well, I’ll see you back in my office once you’re back. If not me, they’ll find someone else. But I don’t want to trust my spot to anyone else.” 

And maybe Seonghwa felt a little bit of pride, but no, no, he couldn’t handle that, he didn’t want that, he didn’t want that much power, he didn’t want this, he didn’t even want to go back in the  _ field-  _

The thought came and left as quickly as a bolt of lightning. 

Appearing. Burning. Gone. 

Leaving scarring in its wake. 

Maybe Eden noticed his mental scare. Maybe he just said all he had to. But he smiled sympathetically as he stood, patting Seonghwa shoulder firmly. “I’ll see you when you’re back on duty,” he said firmly. “Think it over. You’ve still got time. Just contact me by a week's time. By Saturday, alright?” 

Seonghwa nodded, still trying to get the metallic taste of electricity out of his mouth. “Thanks for stopping by,” he managed. 

Eden smiled, a little more towards bright eyes. “Can’t have both of my best agents thinking I don’t care, can I?”

He offered a small wave, reminding him to think about it, and Seonghwa was alone. 

_ He didn’t even want to go back in the field-  _

It hurt just as much the second time around, and he shoved it away. Because it wasn’t true. Seonghwa loved his job. His job let him help people. 

His job was all he had. Just his job. Without his job, he just had a sterile apartment and chronic paranoia. 

He shook his head sharply. No. He was okay. He just needed to get himself figured out still. He was still just… figuring it all out. 

He wondered how much more time that excuse could buy him.  

 

~~~~~~ 

 

Seonghwa was discharged two days later. 

A special brace around his back, one last hug from Haena that wished him the best and reminded him to keep up with his stretching, a wooden cane to help take pressure from his spine, a plain pair of jeans and t-shirt, and a packet of information on how to take care of himself and take it easy until he was cleared for duty.

(Another week, and only with office work involved. Probably a month or more until he was cleared to go back in the field. (He ignored the part of his spine that kept shivering every time he thought about it.))

He visited Hongjoong once more before heading down to where Yunho would be waiting to pick him up and take him home, pushing the door open and peering inside. Hongjoong seemed more active than when Seonghwa visited yesterday (showing off his ability to walk around with perhaps a bit too smug of a smile after Hongjoong’s physical therapy session that left him a little weak and a little pale) 

(He also ignored the pang in his heart that wanted to stop the pain, because he could not do that so he didn’t think on it.).  

(Hongjoong had held his hand the whole time as Seonghwa talked about the pain but how it wasn’t that bad.)  

And, as every time, Hongjoong glanced up from his lap, saw Seonghwa, and his eyes lit up as he smiled, straightening in the bed. 

It still terrified Seonghwa- how much it seemed that Hongjoong  _ looked forward to  _ his company, how much he brightened at Seonghwa’s simple appearance. 

He just liked Seonghwa. And it hurt. 

“You’re getting out?” Hongjoong asked with a quiet smile, eyes trailing over Seonghwa’s softly limping frame and cane that approached his bed. 

“Yeah,” he said, a small upturn of his lips. “What did they say after the check up yesterday?” 

Seonghwa had yet to see Hongjoong after his post-whatever-therapy check up the day prior, and he wouldn’t call his mental state worried, but there had been no complications so far, and Seonghwa’s pessimistic mind always prepared for the worst. 

“I’ll follow you soon,” Hongjoong promised, reaching out a hand that he barely winced at the movement of, flapping it open and closed until Seonghwa sighed and held out his own hand for him to take and squeeze gently. 

Hongjoong liked to hold his hand. Not even hold it, sometimes. Just touch it. Rest a finger on top of it. Brush a fingertip over it. He just liked touching Seonghwa’s hands. And Seonghwa didn’t mind. He wasn’t using them at the moment. 

Hongjoong pulled on his hand until Seonghwa got the message and sat on the edge of the bed, back kept straight by his brace. 

“According to them, it’s going along great,” he said, staring at their dancing fingers. “The wound itself is fine, they’re just keeping a close eye on my lungs. She said a few more days, and I should be clear to go home, but I’ll have to come back every now and then to make sure everything keeps working.” He glanced up, smiling so genuinely Seonghwa wanted to look away. He didn’t. “So that dinner will have to wait a little while longer, but don’t think I forgot about it.” 

Seonghwa’s own lips twitched. “I won’t back out. Dinner is the least I can do after you saved my ass so many times.” 

“Damn right it is,” Hongjoong muttered, chuckling to himself. “God, I can’t wait to be out of here,” he sighed, leaning back against the pillows and pulling Seonghwa forward a bit. “It’s going to be hell without you here.” 

Seonghwa’s heart jumped at the phrase despite its casualness. He swallowed against a stupid rise of emotions he couldn’t place. “You’ll make it,” he promised. “And I’ll come visit, alright?” 

“You and what driving ability?” Hongjoong questioned, smirking. “You’re off heavy machinery for a few days. By then, I’ll be out of here.” 

Seonghwa squeezed his hand, and Hongjoong’s eyes fell down to their interlocked fingers, as if he had forgotten they were there. “You’ll make it,” Seonghwa assured him. “I promise.” His eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should get going. Yunho is probably down there stealing some poor dog he saw on the street.”  

Hongjoong nodded, but Seonghwa could pick up on the minute falling of his shoulders and the dimming of the light in his eyes. 

Hongjoong didn’t want him to leave. He never did. And Seonghwa could admit to himself that it was weird. Despite it being only days, it had been days that Hongjoong and he spent in almost constant company, constantly able to just turn their heads and see each other’s condition. And then they were only feet apart, less often seen but just as easily accessible if you just walked down the hall and through a door. 

With Seonghwa at home.. And Hongjoong stuck here… who would watch them? Who did they trust to make sure the other stayed out of trouble? 

They acted as if for eight years they didn’t see each other more than ten minutes at a time. 

Which is why Seonghwa couldn’t say it. Couldn’t voice that worry. Because it was stupid, compared to everything else. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Hongjoong told him firmly, not meeting his eyes as he sat up, putting them only a foot apart. “I know Eden said Hyorin and her father were taken care of, but watch around your apartment, got it? You’re in no condition to fight if something does happen, so just make sure you have your gun and it’s-” 

Seonghwa wanted to kiss him. 

And the urge came unbidden, without prompting, without much thought. There was no examining the situation, no calculating. Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong, and the urge to lean forward was there, quiet but strong- resolute. It wasn’t experimental or hesitant- it was natural. As if Seonghwa had always had the ability to do that. 

“Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong stopped, mid-statement about guns that jammed when not in use, and stared up at Seonghwa, meeting his eyes with ones that were wide and clear- like those pictures of beaches with water so clear, you could see  _ everything _ . 

Anxiety. Worry. Warmth. Caring. 

He squeezed his hand tightly. “I’ll be okay,” he promised. “You don’t have to worry.” 

“Well, no, I don’t  _ have  _ to,” Hongjoong said petulantly, trying to hide behind the sarcasm. 

Seonghwa smiled, despite his own worries. He reached out his free hand, brushing hair out of Hongjoong’s eyes. He did so without calculating a thing. “I’ll call you so you know I’m okay, alright?” he said, running his fingers through his hair once. Hongjoong closed his eyes gently at the contact, and they stayed that way until Seonghwa removed it. 

Hongjoong swallowed, nodding. “Just… don’t do anything stupid,” he said sternly. 

Seonghwa promised with a sarcastic hand over his heart. “But I really should go now,” he said, watching the minutes tick by. “I’ll call you later, alright?” 

Hongjoong nodded. But he hadn’t let go of Seonghwa’s hand. Seonghwa glanced down at their fingers, but Hongjoong was still looking at him, lips forcing upwards in a hard smile. “What- I don’t get a goodbye kiss?” he laughed. 

And it was so painfully fake, that Seonghwa almost laughed himself. 

But it hurt to much to laugh. Because Hongjoong was making light of it, was turning it into a joke. But it was so painfully obvious in the way his eyes flickered, the way his hand had yet to release Seonghwa’s- just how much it meant to him. 

After their first little kiss that Yeosang and Wooyoung interrupted, they hadn’t done anything else. Not out of fear of being caught, but it just… never came up. Hongjoong held his hand, and Seonghwa would run his fingers through his hair, but neither of them tried to initiate a kiss. Maybe it was just too much hassle with their aching bodies and awkward angles, but it just never happened. 

But now, clearly, Hongjoong didn’t want to ask for it. Didn’t want to make it seem like that was all he wanted. 

Both of them were terrified of vapidity. Terrified of being or being seen as shallow. Because that’s what neither of them wanted. What neither of them wanted to give to the other. 

And it hurt because Seonghwa understood. And even had Hongjoong sat there and demanded that he make out with him before he left… Seonghwa didn’t think he could pin a label of vapidness on Hongjoong. Hongjoong could demand whatever he liked… and Seonghwa would believe that there was more behind it. 

He leaned forward slightly. “Hongjoong,” he said quietly. “Do you want me to kiss you?” 

And Hongjoong looked away, as if that would erase the situation, his hand loosening on Seonghwa’s as if he was going to pull away. Seonghwa tightened his grip- not enough to restrict him should he choose to pull away completely, but as a reminder that he was still holding on. 

Seonghwa’s throat felt dry. “Because I would like to kiss you one more time before I leave.” 

And despite the conversation that needed to happen, despite his own fears and inhibitions, despite wanting to run every time he saw how Hongjoong looked at him… Seonghwa was being forced to actively participate in whatever this was. 

It was no longer Hongjoong holding the reins, steering them along without knowing where Seonghwa wanted to go, scared of taking him somewhere he hadn’t wanted, scared of veering them off course- 

Seonghwa was now beside him, one of his own hands on the reins, helping to guide them. 

Both of them guiding where they wanted to go, both of them keeping away from where they didn’t want to go. 

Hongjoong was scared to ask for intimacy. Seonghwa would offer it. Hongjoong could reject or accept it. But it was offered. 

Hongjoong glanced up at him, and he wasn’t scared, but he was searching- eyes scanning Seonghwa’s face, as if looking for a part of him that was just catering to Hongjoong, that was just indulging him. 

He wouldn’t find any. 

Hongjoong wet his lips and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he whispered, voice dropping. 

Seonghwa let go of his hand. Hongjoong let him. But it was only to lift it to place against the side of Hongjoong’s neck as he smiled gently, leaning forward (his back kept straight, though) until their foreheads touched. 

Hongjoong stared at him as if Seonghwa had just revealed a deep secret, swallowing as Seonghwa rubbed small circles into his skin. 

“You can kiss me however you’d like,” Seonghwa told him softly, lips brushing. “I don’t mind.” 

Because he didn’t. And through laying there in pain after physical therapy and bored days when Hongjoong was doing procedures and Seonghwa had nothing to do- 

Seonghwa realized that communication was going to have to be a big fucking thing between them. There were too many red zones, too much detrimental content hiding around corners- too many things that they would never be able to list and remember. They needed to ask. They needed to allow. 

Because Hongjoong didn’t want to cross those lines. Seonghwa didn’t either. And the only way not to, was to know when they were there and when they weren’t. Maybe one day, Seonghwa wouldn’t want a heated kiss with tongue. Maybe another day, he would. 

Hongjoong would have no way of knowing unless Seonghwa told him. 

And now, Hongjoong would never try and go deeper than a peck unless Seonghwa told him he could. Because maybe that was a line. So Seonghwa took five fucking seconds to tell him that, no, that wasn’t a line today. Today, he could kiss him how he’d like. 

But Hongjoong still stared at Seonghwa, frowning. “Are you sure?” he asked, because they were still new, they were still stumbling. Maybe things didn’t mean what they thought they meant, maybe people lied, maybe they indulged- 

But Seonghwa nodded. “This might be your last kiss for a while,” he reminded him, smirking, and he could feel Hongjoong relax slightly. “Gotta make it count.” 

Hongjoong’s hand came up and rested on Seonghwa’s shoulder, his face pinching in pain for a moment. Seonghwa leaned forward more, causing very little discomfort to his own back, but easing the pressure on Hongjoong’s. He swallowed, lips brushing Seonghwa’s once, twice. “Just tell me to stop,” he whispered, and Seonghwa only made a confirming sound in the back of his throat before both leaned forward to touch. 

And Seonghwa expected Hongjoong to keep it at a simple peck, regardless of his reassurances. And it began with just a gentle touch, Hongjoong’s hand flexing and squeezing nervously on his shoulder, and Seonghwa massaged the muscle in his neck comfortingly. 

He opened his own mouth slightly- an invitation, a reassurance, an offer- and Hongjoong hesitated, but licked carefully against Seonghwa’s lips, which he opened further, leaning closer. 

Hongjoong’s hand slid from his shoulder to tangle in his hair at the back of his head- not tugging, just resting, playing with the strands like he did with Seonghwa’s fingers. 

They were slow. They were back and forth. They were testing. But they were doing it. And neither of them was crying, neither of them were scared, neither of them were thinking of anything but the person against them. 

Because Hongjoong and Seonghwa had been talking over the passed days. They could do little else. And most of it was work, most of it was stories about the people on their teams… but they delved into others. Into food allergies and where they’d go on vacation if they ever got one… 

Hongjoong was human. Same as Seonghwa. Interests and desires and work and friends and fears… just as numerous as Seonghwa’s, just as real as Seonghwa’s. 

It gave life to the person against his lips. 

Not just Hongjoong, that Seonghwa now saw he was wrong about. Not just Hongjoong, who was better than Seonghwa had originally thought. 

Hongjoong. Who liked making music on the weekends, who had never cooked real food a day in his life, who couldn’t eat pineapple, who felt like little Jongho on his team was his kid, whose only form of OCD was in how he folded his clothes- 

There was so much. So many little things. Intricacies and hidden trap doors… 

And Seonghwa realized, one night as he lay awake, that he wanted to learn them. He knew how Yeosang sat his mugs exactly six inches from his mouse pad (he didn’t measure, he just knew) for optimal reach, how Wooyoung stirred his coffee three times left and twice right before he drank it- 

Stupid things. Useless things. 

Seonghwa wanted to know the useless things about Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong pulled away, breathing a little heavily, and he laughed to himself. “Stupid lungs,” he panted, offering Seonghwa a quirk of his lips that was bright again. “It’s going be a fucking pain for me to get my goddamn stamina back.” 

Seonghwa squeezed his neck. “And we’ve heard  _ all  _ about your stamina,” he chuckled, letting his hand drag as he dropped it back to his side. 

Hongjoong scoffed in offence, pushing Seonghwa’s hand away. “I have great stamina when my body doesn’t rebel,” he said firmly. “And if you’re going to be rude, you can just leave.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, standing. “I’d have to leave even if I wasn’t being rude.” He reached out, tugging on a piece of Hongjoong’s hair. “I’ll see you later.”

And though he kept on the sarcastic glare, Seonghwa saw the light in his eyes. “Don’t trip going down stairs. That’d be an embarrassing way to end up back here.” 

And Seonghwa… Seonghwa flipped him off. 

It felt good. 

Hongjoong’s laugh at it felt better. 

One last wave, and Seonghwa exited the room, heading down to the lobby, ready to ignore Yunho’s whining for keeping him waiting. 

He wouldn’t…  _ miss  _ Hongjoong’s company. But it was something he was going to feel. It was going to leave a spot. But he was sure once Yeosang and Wooyoung showed up at his apartment to demand more answers under the guise of taking care of him….that should occupy his time nicely. 

Hongjoong would be out in a few days. And then they could really get everything sorted. 

 

~~~~~~

 

As promised, Yeosang and Wooyoung showed up at Seonghwa’s apartment. 

Daily. 

For quite a few hours. 

And while most of their interactions did center around making sure he didn’t kill himself trying to stand (that couch was a bitch to get off of) and lighthearted teasing about his cane, there were moments of… suggestive conversation. 

Or, it would be suggestive, if either Yeosang or Wooyoung had any sort of subtly whatsoever. 

“So, you haven’t fucked yet?” 

Seonghwa threw a chopstick at Wooyoung who yelped. 

“I’m just trying to make sure I have all the facts!” He fought. “If you haven’t fucked and he breaks your heart, I just stab him till he stops twitching. But if you fucked, then I have to castrate  _ and  _ stab him.”

Yeosang didn’t look up from his take-out container. “Or you could just castrate him either way, just to be safe.” 

“Why are you encouraging him?” Seonghwa demanded, giving him a betrayed look. “I thought you were his handler?” 

Yeosang shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “I’m tired today. Just let me know if he starts trying to jump out windows, I told Yunho I’d get a video.” He did glance over at Seonghwa finally. “And why would I stop him? The only thing he’s doing wrong is thinking he’d have a chance to kill Hongjoong before I did.” 

“I thought I was my own person and you guys didn’t really have a say?” Seonghwa sighed, rubbing at his face. 

“You are,” Yeosang assured him. “And we’re not telling you not to go for it. But we’re saying that you chose to go for it. And if Hongjoong hurts you in the slightest way, they’ll never find his body.” 

“Isn’t it time for you two to go home?” Seonghwa cut in sharply, glancing at the clock. “I’m tired, I want to go to bed.” 

It had actually taken a few nights and a off handed comment from Yeosang, but Seonghwa realized he was… sleeping better. 

Not more than before. But… deeper, calmer sleeps. He was still tired, but not so… harried. 

Wooyoung snorted. “Yeah, right. The moment we leave, you’re just gonna call Hongjoong and flirt on the phone for an hour.” 

“I am not,” Seonghwa snapped, stabbing at a dumpling, voice lowering. “I called earlier, he has a check up tonight.” 

“Hyung, the two of you are actually disgusting, and you haven’t even reached a honeymoon phase yet.” 

And Seonghwa knew Yeosang wouldn’t abandon him as he stood, sighing. “Fine, hyung, we’ll head home and let you rest.” 

“We will?” Wooyoung demanded. “But we still don’t know if they fucked!” 

Yeosang grabbed Wooyoung by the arm and hauled him up. “Wooyoung, I highly doubt both Hongjoong and Seonghwa are dumb enough to have sex in the middle of being on the run.” He started pushing him towards the door. “Now, let’s go. I want to sleep too.” 

Wooyoung whipped around. “But you said tonight we could-”

Yeosang shoved him hurriedly through the door, only managing to call a quick “Night, hyung!” before following. 

Which was how a lot of Seonghwa’s nights went. 

The days… Those were filled with a lot of pain and heartache as he tried to operate without hurting himself, while also doing stretches that were designed to hurt him. 

Bending over, lifting heavier things than a pillow, just walking for a while- the sharp pains had faded but the roaring ache along his entire back was persistent. He felt like he needed a goddamn massage. 

But overall… he was doing fine. It was quiet at his house, but he didn’t go out. He watched a few movies. He cooked a little. He called Hongjoong sometimes, going through the nice front desk lady who connected him. Their calls were always short, only a few minutes. But it was… you know, it was… 

Seonghwa still couldn’t find words. 

He laid on his bed, feeling the small lump under his pillow that was his gun. He used to carry it around the house with him, but now it was reserved to under his pillow or waiting outside the shower. He still jumped at the apartment creaking, tensed whenever he heard a car outside, but… 

Coping, you know? 

Seonghwa was cleared to go back into work the next day, provided there was only office work assigned to him, and now he was staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. 

It was barely evening, just reaching six o’clock, and he was trying to decide about… everything. 

Because tomorrow was Friday. Which meant his answer to Eden needed to be ready soon. And Seonghwa was… 

Resolute. 

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to take Eden’s place. Whether he could handle it or not, that wasn’t what he wanted. Of that, he was sure. 

The issue came from the subsequent thought spawned from that decision: his eventual return to the field. He tried to imagine it- going back out, sleeping around, twisting out information, saving live, helping people- 

A sterile apartment. And his job. 

That was all he had. 

What would he even do if he left that? He wanted to help people. What? A regular police officer? The thought made him laugh. Could he bear something so boring as an office job? Hell, no. He loved his job. But why did he feel such… dread? At going back. 

Fear. Tension. Sick. 

As if people were suddenly waiting around every corner with knives hidden in the dark- 

The doorbell sounded throughout the apartment, and Seonghwa jumped, hand snaking under his pillow for a moment. Yeosang and Wooyoung said they weren’t coming by tonight. 

Gun clasped in his hand, he stood, moving carefully towards the door (A short enough distance, he didn’t need his cane, but he was careful not to fall). 

What threat would ring a doorbell, but paranoia won out over logic everytime. 

He reached the door, gun poised, and peered through the peephole- 

Hongjoong stood in the hall, leaning on his own cane, glancing around as if making sure he had the right place. Seonghwa sighed, tension leaving him as he pulled the door open quickly. 

Hongjoong looked up, startled, then bright, then confused as he looked at the gun in Seonghwa’s hand. “You greet all your guests like this? Or am I special?” he joked as Seonghwa stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. 

“First of all, you could have called ahead,” Seonghwa sighed. “Second, you told me to be careful. Third, you aimed and fired a gun at me the first time I opened your door, so I’m doing better than you.” 

Hongjoong snickered- a very light sound. “Touche,” he noted, glancing around Seonghwa’s apartment. “Wow… it is…  _ clean _ .” 

Seonghwa remembered Hongjoong’s lived in apartment with its papers and clothes and electronics… “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You didn’t tell me you were getting discharged.” 

Hongjoong hummed, limping forward and looking around. “Wanted to surprise you,” He said off handedly. “I’ve got another follow up in a couple days.” 

It was… weird. 

Hongjoong was in his space. 

Hongjoong, in his jeans and a t-shirt, wandering around his kitchen and living area, looking around. Seonghwa was suddenly hyper aware of everything that was different from his own apartment and Hongjoong’s. 

“Did they ever fix up your apartment?” Seonghwa asked to fill the silence. 

Hongjoong was in his space. It was weird. It was… 

“Yeah, they already got it all taken care of,” he said, turning back to look at Seonghwa. “Got any plans tonight?” 

Seonghwa frowned, shrugging. “I’m supposed to go in for office work tomorrow, so I was just laying around wanting to die inside.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, looking at Seonghwa’s little minimalist artwork hanging in the living area. “Feel like getting dinner?” he asked, trying for casual. 

Seonghwa blinked. “You just got discharged. You don’t want like... Rest or something?” 

Hongjoong smirked, and there was a sharp glint. “Why would I lay around at home when I could spend the night with you?” 

And the tone was the same as back when he would flirt infuriatingly, but the underlying feeling was different. It was playful- almost mocking of his innuendoes. 

And Seonghwa felt his lips twitch. “I don’t feel like driving. Are you good to walk a couple blocks? We can get a cab, if not.” 

Hongjoong grinned. “If I get tired, you can just carry me.” 

Seonghwa suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “More like drag you. If you think I could hold you right now, you’re delusional, regardless of how light you are.” 

He shrugged. “Let’s just grab a cab. I don’t think either of us want to walk around.” 

Seonghwa nodded, walking towards his bedroom. “Let me get changed first.” 

Hongjoong nodded, walking around the island in the kitchen. “Take your time, we’ve got all night.” 

_ You have time, hyung.  _

 

Hongjoong filled the silence of the cab ride with word on his condition, what he could do, what he couldn’t. It was good white noise to distract from Seonghwa’s slowly growing panic. 

The restaurant was a higher scale steak place that Seonghwa always liked going to, but never did because it was awkward as fuck to eat alone. Hongjoong glanced around the inside, lips twitching. 

“Fancy,” he noted quietly as a waiter brought them to a table. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.” 

Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow. “Is steak all it takes to impress you?” 

“What’s wrong with having simple needs?” 

They sat at a table for two, a white table cloth and wine glasses sitting on the table. The place looked fancier than it actually was, and Hongjoong kept glancing around. “You know, I thought when I asked for dinner, you were going to take  me to some fast food place.” 

“Did you want fast food?”

“Not really, no.” 

Seonghwa opened a menu pointedly. “Then stop complaining and figure out what you want to eat.” 

He was grateful for the process of getting drinks and ordering because it gave him a chance to think. And after the waiter disappeared, saying their food would be out in a moment, silence fell without the small talk about food or what to drink. 

Hongjoong watched Seonghwa casually, leaning on the table slightly. He was waiting, Seonghwa realized. It was the cue he needed to clear his throat and speak. 

“You remember I said we had to talk…” Hongjoong nodded slowly. “I figure now is as good a time as any to get it out of the way… but if you’d rather save it, we can just enjoy dinner.” 

Hongjoong shrugged, leaning back. “Might as well get it out of the way. Especially since… well, it is sort of important. I wish we had a chance to discuss earlier. I feel like we’re…” He chuckled. “Like two trains on one track and only luck has kept us from crashing into each other.” 

Seonghwa could appreciate that. 

And so, he took a sip of water, staring at the table cloth for a moment before shaking his head and looking up to meet Hongjoong’s eyes. “I’m going to be honest,” he began. “I hated you.” 

Seonghwa laid it all out. All of it. Every issue and insecurity he had felt this entire ride. He had sensored what he told Yeosang and Wooyoung, smoothing out the edges and blurring the imagines, but for Hongjoong… he held nothing back. 

The anxiety. The fear of failure. The guilt at his treatment. The twisting in his gut each time he thought about everything he had said in anger, everything he had meant- 

And maybe Hongjoong’s expression would twitch. Would show a flash of hurt or understanding, and Seonghwa had to look away because the fucking guilt almost made him vomit. 

The confusion at how Hongjoong could pick him- such a fucking asshole- and still want him. The anger at not understanding his own reactions. The confusions- all the fucking confusion that melted into every other emotion under the sun- 

“It scared me,” he said, lips closing as the waiter set their food down and left. “The way you look at me… it terrifies me.” 

Hongjoong had remained quiet, only asking an occasional inquisitive question. Hongjoong had laid himself out in that hotel room. It was Seonghwa’s turn. “Why?” 

Seonghwa swirled his water. “Because it… it’s too much. I wanted more, I wanted real, but when you give me that… I don’t know what to do with it.” 

“Have you ever had it before?” Seonghwa shook his head. “Then that’s probably normal.” Hongjoong offered a weak smile. Trying to comfort. Trying to reassure. 

Seonghwa told him about his slow-to-change opinions, his darkest thoughts of how everything would crash and burn, how it could never last… how they were already too deep.  _ He _ was already too deep. 

“As much as I don’t know what I’m doing,” Seonghwa murmured, “I don’t want to end it. As terrified as I am of… messing up, of hurting you… of getting hurt myself… Regardless of what happens, what comes of it… one thing I need you to understand is that I want this. That’s something you never have to question or doubt.” 

Because if Seonghwa was still here after all this shit storm, he was here for the long run. 

And Hongjoong’s eyes were shining, but he nodded, lips pressed into a hard line. 

It was hard to hear. Hard to say. But it needed to be. 

“I can’t call it the same as you,” Seonghwa said firmly. “I can’t. And I can’t even put a fucking label on it. I just know that… I want to keep going. I want to… to  _ trust _ you. I want to be able to… have you trust  _ me _ .” His throat was dry, but he didn’t drink. “But we can’t just erase eight years, Hongjoong. I can’t do that. It colored too much. I can’t just… jump head first into all of this, I need… I need time.” 

There was silence. 

Seonghwa took a slightly-shaking sip of water. 

Hongjoong’s fingers pinched and twisted the table cloth. “Then let’s start over.” It was a whisper. 

A breath. 

Seonghwa looked up as Hongjoong stared at him with that gaze that was too much. “Hongjoong, I just said we can’t erase-” 

“We aren’t,” Hongjoong said firmly. “Just… We can’t be together starting halfway. It’ll never work out. There’s too much behind us. So, just… start over. This-” He gestured around them. “This is date number one. And then maybe next time, we can watch a movie or something. And we’ll talk about those sort of things that we like…  and the ones that we don’t…” He laughed to himself. “You and I have literally almost died together, but I don’t even know what your favorite color is.” 

And Seonghwa’s throat was closing up. 

Because he had been looking at it all wrong. 

He was scared to sleep with Hongjoong. He was scared of reaching that point, because that’s what training said came after kissing someone. You touched, you kissed, and then you had sex. 

Relationships… meaningful ones, real ones… they didn’t do that. People in relationships weren’t scared of sex. Thy didn’t only think about sex. 

They had lunch dates, didn’t they? They went on dates, they asked questions, they talked about their day… 

He and Hongjoong didn’t need to have sex. Not now, not ever. 

What was sex to them? Sex was meaningless. 

Hongjoong holding his hand, touching just because he could, staring at Seonghwa like just being able to talk with him-  _ be _ with him- was enough… 

“Blue.” 

Hongjoong blinked. “What?” 

Seonghwa swallowed, but his throat stuck. “My favorite color. It doesn’t matter all that much… but it’s blue.” 

And God, Seonghwa felt like someone was squeezing his heart in a vice, threatening to break it as Hongjoong’s confusion turned into a slow, warm smile, like this was the best thing Seonghwa could have ever told him. 

“I like reds,” Hongjoong returned, and he looked  _ excited _ . “Where did you grow up?” It was quick, as if they only had a few minutes to find out as much a they could. 

Seonghwa felt his shoulders unbunch slightly. “Jinju,” he answered softly. 

“Do you speak a dialect?”

“I lost most of it after I moved away to college. What about you?” 

It was a date. Date. The word sounded so kiddy. But it was what they needed. What was absolutely necessary for them to make it work. 

It was… strange. It was hard, because Seonghwa kept wanting to know what the point was, what did it all matter, what did all these questions matter- but it didn’t.

It didn’t matter. It was pointless. 

He had absolutely no use for the information that Hongjoong won a music festival when he was fifteen. But it wasn’t about being useful. 

It was about Hongjoong. 

It was about both of them. It was about more.  _ More  _ didn’t necessarily mean useful. It meant caring. Because Seonghwa didn’t see the point of it all, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t holding on to every word that came out of Hongjoong’s mouth about how much he liked to spread mud from the river over himself as a kid. 

And Seonghwa… he never really talked about himself. Yeosang and Wooyoung and Yunho knew some stuff, but not the useless stuff. Not that he would hide in one tree in his yard for so long, his mother would call the police. Not that he loved painting at one point so much that he thought it was what he would do with his life. 

Because Seonghwa… he did business. If it had no purpose, he didn’t need it. He didn’t say it. Not even to his friends. 

But he told Hongjoong about how much he resented his father for what he did, how much he wished he had talked more with his mother before work took over his life. 

The restaurant began to empty. 

Neither of them thought of moving. 

“Eden offered me his position, since they want to promote him to the Board.” 

The statement came after a gentle silence where they finished off the last of their food. 

Hongjoong looked up, eyes wide. “Seriously?” 

Seonghwa nodded. “I’m going to tell him no.” 

A short silence. “Why?” Questioning, soft, not accusing, not demanding. 

“I don’t want that,” Seonghwa said simply. “It was a pretty easy decision to make…” He swallowed. “The part that’s giving me trouble… is a sudden indecision about whether I want to go back at all.” 

There was surprised silence, flavored a quiet shock. Seonghwa kept staring at his drink. Several beats passed. “As in… not going back to KQ at all? Or not going back into the field?” 

That was the question, wasn’t it?

Seonghwa shrugged, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks it’s just residue from… everything. That sort of distrust…paranoia after being sh-” His brow furrowed. He looked up. “I never asked,” He realized. 

“Asked what?” Hongjoong questioned, confused. 

Seonghwa remembered cold eyes and harsh tongues lashing angrily- 

“The agency… did they ever… do anything to you?” He asked carefully, voice even and calm. 

_ Agents are commodities.  _

“You talked before… when we first met at your apartment… about the company not caring, agents being expendable… I always wondered if that was spawned from something.” 

And through his surprise at that being remembered and suddenly brought up, Hongjoong’s grip on his glass tightened. He lowered his eyes to his empty plate. “Well… when you lose faith in one part… it tends to spoil the whole thing,” he murmured. 

He wet his lips, swallowing, as if preparing himself, and Seonghwa opened his mouth to retract the statement, but Hongjoong got it out first. 

“I know I… glossed over everything that happened,” He said. “Before. With that guy.” 

Oh. That. Seonghwa’s stomach twisted. 

“I said I brushed it off, but… It really did fuck with me. And when I went to the company about it… I went  _ before _ I pulled the gun on that other guy. I explained what happened. And it wasn’t the whole operation, it was just this one fucking bitch I got assigned to talk to. One who said as long as I got the info, my job was done. I’d never have to see him again, so just move on. This was my job, this is what I signed up to do, so just make sure to keep focus on my missions.” 

He let go of his glass, hands coming to rest in his lap. It made him look smaller, but the stony expression took away any sort of impression of helplessness. 

“And then I went on a mission, and I fucked the whole thing up, and it was suddenly my fault. They didn’t care what caused it. They cared that it had fucked with their missions. So they stuck me in therapy, and then called it a day.” 

He shook his head. “We mean nothing to them. They care about numbers, and if they would scorn an agent harmed in the line of duty, what’s to stop them from selling one out just for some money that would help the numbers?” He worked his jaw. “They didn’t for you. Gong was acting alone. It wasn’t the whole operation. It was just one asshole with a little too much power. And look what fucking happened.” 

Hongjoong lifted his eyes, clear and crystalline. “I’m not saying no one in the company cares. But I’m saying I’ve seen a pattern. And that pattern is that the higher ups, the ones who had never held a gun in their lives, don’t give a fuck about the lower levels. We get punished for being hurt. We get stuck to the side the moment something goes wrong. And we get thrown away as soon as we’re broken. Commodities.” 

Seonghwa’s chest was tight, but it was nothing compared to the rolling in his stomach. 

Fundamentally, he didn’t quite believe it the same way Hongjoong did. But perhaps there was a similar theme running through both their minds. 

They had been hurt. 

Seonghwa was tired of being hurt. He was tired of watching people be hurt. He was tired of all of it, of sleeping around, of manipulating, of- 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a waiter said, approaching, smiling apologetically. “But we close in half an hour, I just wanted to inform you.” 

Seonghwa paid for the meal, not even glancing at the amount. He and Hongjoong sat in silence, both just lost in their heads. When the man returned, and Seonghwa lifted a curious eyebrow at Hongjoong, he nodded, and they both stood, Hongjoong leaning on his cane a little heavier than Seonghwa. 

“Let’s walk, if that’s okay,” Hongjoong said when they got out. “It’s a nice night.” 

Hongjoong had made light of the situation and what it did to him. Which was understandable. But it made Seonghwa shift. “Are you actually okay?” Seonghwa asked as they walked slowly down the sidewalk. No one else was around. “After…” 

Hongjoong understood. “I am,” he said firmly, assuredly. “It’s not debilitating or anything, it’s just… something that’s there, you know? You can ignore it, but even if it’s small, it’s always there.” 

Like a smudge. 

“I don’t… like people holding me down,” Hongjoong noted, watching the sidewalk. “ _ Sometimes _ . Sometimes, it feels really good, and sometimes, it make me feel like I’m going to vomit. And it’s something that I can just muscle through if it does become an issue during a mission, but that doesn’t happen too often, especially now.” 

No holding down without asking. Not something Seonghwa would probably try regardless, but it was carefully filed away. “What else?” he questioned quietly. 

“You first,” Hongjoong said, a sad smile on his lips as he bumped his shoulder into Seonghwa’s. 

“I don’t really have many issues with that sort of stuff,” Seonghwa admitted, feeling slightly guilty about it. “Nothing outstanding, at least. Maybe in the middle of something I’d feel like I don’t like it. Maybe if asked beforehand, I’d say no, but there’s nothing really out of bounds inherently.” 

Because all he wanted was meaning. If there was meaning, he was pretty sure he’d be down for most anything. 

“Nothing is inherent for me either, really,” he assured him. “It depends on the day, what I feel like and what I don’t. Which is inconvenient for all parties involved. I don’t like surprise attacks,” Hongjoong said, voice a little lighter. “And I mean, like, extreme ones. I guess that kind of goes with like… sex itself. Kissing and stuff is fine, and really, even a surprise is fine, I just…” He wet his lips. “I’m down for anything. I just… I need to be able to say stop.” 

Seonghwa stopped walking, Hongjoong continuing a couple of steps before turning back. 

It still hurt to think about. 

“Seonghwa?” 

“I know I told you that if there’s one thing you never need to worry about, it’s whether I want this or not,” Seonghwa said quietly, Hongjoong walking back the couple of steps, nodding in understanding. “But even more than that,” he whispered, jaw tight, “I never… I never-” 

He didn’t know how to stress it. How to form it. 

He reached forward slowly, his fingers brushing Hongjoong’s cheek who stood completely still. 

“I  _ never _ want you to doubt… that even if I were to suddenly hate you… even if I were to curse and despise you…” His hand rested against the curve of Hongjoong’s cheek, gentle. “Even if I were to fucking wish you dead…” He swallowed. “If you  _ hesitated…  _ If you told me you didn’t know if you wanted it… If you told me to stop…  I would do so  _ without _ thought or hesitation.” 

Hongjoong’s lips shook slightly as he nodded wordlessly. 

“I want you to understand that,” Seonghwa whispered, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “Doubt and suspect my character and my intentions all you want. But  _ believe me _ when I say that when you tell me to stop… I will.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, a barely shaking hand coming up to rest on Seonghwa’s against his cheek. He didn’t look like he would cry, but his eyes shone with something deep like the dark blue of an ocean trench. 

“I know this is our first date,” Hongjoong whispered hoarsely, “but would it be too forward if I asked you to kiss me?” 

Seonghwa felt a laugh bubble in his chest, but it remained there as he let his cane fall from his hand, bringing his other palm up until he cupped Hongjoong’s face, guiding him forward until they lips slid together, Hongjoong’s eyes fluttering closed as his grip on Seonghwa’s hand tightened helplessly. 

It was searing, Hongjoong pressing against him slowly, but firmly, pulling Seonghwa closer. 

But it was not a flash of flame. There and then gone.

It was like those old myths about undying fires. Something strong that burned and consumed, but it just kept going, never dying or waning. 

Hongjoong was shorter than him. By a bit. But it seemed to bother him nothing as he rose up to meeting Seonghwa, either fine with his back or ignoring it. Seonghwa heard the clatter of another cane hitting the sidewalk as Hongjoong’s other hand grabbed his arm, steadying himself. 

He pulled away quickly, panting against Seonghwa’s lips as his lungs fought him every step of the way. His fingertips tug into Seonghwa’s arm, as if it was only thing keeping him up. 

“Can I kiss you again?” he panted, and Seonghwa simply nodded before Hongjoong pulled him back down, both of them careful to not hurt themselves or the other. 

Hongjoong nipped at his lips, and Seonghwa pressed closer, their lips bruising each other’s, Hongjoong crumpling his shirt in his fist as his eyes clenched shut. 

When Seonghwa licked at Hongjoong’s lips, a short sound left the other’s mouth as he invited Seonghwa in, sucking on his tongue gently. Seonghwa licked into Hongjoong’s mouth, tasting lemon from his drink. Hongjoong’s tongue tangled with his, curling and twisting and tasting. 

It was bolder than any other they had. Manipulation, training… they were hard to leave behind. But it was possible. Intent and actions… they were easy to control. Easy to rein in. Maybe their training taught them how to make someone feel good- 

That didn’t make the act inherently bad. If Hongjoong and he wanted to make the other feel good, training was a good way to go. It was the intent, the aftermath, that was what needed to be watched. 

Seonghwa dropped one hand to tangle in Hongjoong’s hair, not angling him, but keeping a firm, grounding grip there. Hongjoong’s hand on his moved to his chest, resting there and pressing sharp nails against his shirt gently. It was more than they had done before. It was more- 

Hongjoong pulled away so suddenly Seonghwa thought he had fucked up, but he simply ducked his head, resting his head against Seonghwa’s chest. 

“Fucking- lungs-” he panted heavily. “This- sucks-” he choked out. “I think I’m gonna- pass out-” 

Seonghwa had to laugh gently, his own breaths coming in shallowly. The hand in Hongjoong’s hair ran through the strands comfortingly, making his head tilt back, a pleased hum leaving his throat. Seonghwa snorted. “You’re like a cat,” he noted. 

Hongjoong smirked, still sucking in deep breaths. “Cats… are fucking adorable,” he said. “So thank you.” 

“You’ve got claws like one, too,” Seonghwa noted, picking up on dainty hand and running the pad of his fingers over the filed nail. 

Hongjoong dropped his head onto Seonghwa’s chest again, chuckling. 

It was just the two of them. Standing on a sidewalk, Hongjoong resting against his chest like he intended to fall asleep there, Seonghwa’s hand threading through his hand and resting on his hip, just holding him. 

What a sight they must look. 

“Sorry,” Hongjoong muttered, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “Can you just-” His fingers curled into Seonghwa’s shirt gently. “Can we just stay like this for a minute?” 

It was startling. They were in public. In the middle of a sidewalk. But Seonghwa nodded, running fingers through his hair again, just staring over the top of his head and forgetting how long they were there. Didn’t really care how long Hongjoong decided to stay against him. 

Hongjoong felt would against him. He wasn’t very warm, but the night was cool. Seonghwa rubbed a hand up and down his arms gently. 

A few people wandered down the opposite sidewalk but he didn’t think they even saw him in the dark. He didn’t really care if they did. 

But Hongjoong did eventually pull away, clearing his throat and offering Seonghwa a watery smile. “Sorry,” he croaked, “we can go now.” 

Seonghwa didn’t let him go immediately. Hongjoong glanced at him, but Seonghwa just leaned for slightly, pressing his lips to Hongjoong’s forehead softly. Hongjoong went very still as Seonghwa pulled away, smiling gently. 

“I’ll get your cane,” he said, shifting and carefully lowering himself to his knees to pick up both canes, handing one to Hongjoong. “Ready?” 

Hongjoong took it slowly, oddly pensive. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

They walked about a block in silence, just looking at the stars that rose up in the distance. Seonghwa was… comfortable. 

Maybe he didn’t have any more information than he did before. Maybe he was still just as lost as he was before. But it was out in the open. It was no longer just him in his little riptide of confusion, Hongjoong was right there beside him. And maybe Hongjoong had on a lifejacket, but he was kind enough to make sure Seonghwa’s head didn’t go under. 

He didn’t need to have all the answers. He just needed to know what test he was taking. 

When his and Hongjoong’s hands brushed as they walked, Hongjoong linked their pinkies loosely, hands swinging together. Seonghwa glanced at him, and Hongjoong was already watching him, smiling gently, as if Seonghwa had given him something precious. 

It was pointless. 

It meant everything. 

They stood outside his apartment, Seonghwa glancing at the doors. “Want to come up?” he offered carefully. Stepping. Testing. 

Hongjoong actually considered it, humming. “No, I think I should head home,” he decided. “I’d be too afraid of falling asleep on your couch.” 

Seonghwa wanted to tell him that it was fine if he fell asleep on his couch, but he nodded. “You’re okay getting home?” 

Hongjoong nodded. “I’ll hail a cab.” 

Seonghwa nodded. It wasn’t awkward. It was like both of them were trying to remember what else they wanted to say to each other. “Then I guess I’ll head up,” Seonghwa said. “I’ve got work tomorrow, but… I’ll check in on you, alright?”

Hongjoong’s lips quirked playfully. “Do I get a goodnight kiss before you leave?” 

It was still making light. But it wasn’t quite so scared. 

Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t I already kiss you a few minutes ago?”

“That wasn’t a goodnight kiss,” Hongjoong huffed, shaking his head. “That was completely different.” 

He snorted. “Then what was that kiss back there that you wanted?” 

Hongjoong’s eyes shone and it had nothing to do with the stars hanging above them. “Making sure you’re real.” 

It was heavy. It was painful. It was concrete. 

Seonghwa tried to keep up a mood, but his voice was low. “Do you think I’m not real?” 

Hongjoong shook his head slowly, eyes tracing over Seonghwa’s face as if trying to memorize it. “You’re real. I just keep realizing it, and I need to…  _ do  _ something about it. Other than cry like a fucking teenager.” 

Seonghwa tried to hum in understanding, but it stuck in his throat. He nodded instead, stepping closer. “Fine,” He said, and maybe his voice was a little thick, but what did that matter, in the grand scheme of things? “One goodnight kiss.” 

Hongjoong smiled, and it was grateful. It was thankful. As if Seonghwa was the best thing he could ask for. 

It was gentle, their lips pressing against each other. No tongue, and no contact other than Seonghwa’s hand on Hongjoong’s hip and Hongjoong’s hand on Seonghwa’s bicep. It was short. Fleeting. And Hongjoong was the first to pull away, smiling serenely. 

“Tonight was fun,” he said. “We should do it again sometime.” 

Dates. Relationships. Things Seonghwa had believed weren’t actually real. People didn’t actually do that- 

Starting over. A fresh page. A new journey, colored but not tainted by what had already happened. 

He nodded. “We should.” 

Hongjoong grinned, stepping back. “I’ll see you later, Seonghwa. Get some sleep, alright?.” 

Such a casual statement, but it made Seonghwa’s heart thud. “Get home safe.” 

Hongjoong’s nose crinkled as he smiled. He waved tiny fingers in goodbye, and turned to the street, stepping and putting a hand out to gain a cab’s attention. 

Seonghwa turned and walked up the steps into the building, his heart weighed down but still floating. So much. So fast. But it was… it was slowing down. 

They were starting over. 

He glanced over his shoulder in time for a cab to stop for Hongjoong, the other stepping inside. 

Somehow, that was what made a balloon swell in his chest. Starting over. Not forgetting, but building in spite of. 

Seonghwa had hated Hongjoong. 

He didn’t anymore. 

And with this, he would slowly gain reasons- legitimate reasons- to like him. Things about Hongjoong. Not just what he did, not what he had been through. Hongjoong himself. 

There was still a long way to go. They were both stumbling, and Seonghwa had a lot of other things on his plate, but this was… perhaps, a light at the end of the tunnel. Something to look forward to. 

Seonghwa had to laugh to himself in the elevator. 

Work and a sterile apartment. That was all he had. 

When was the last time he had something to look forward to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay!   
> I have one more (slightly shorter, I think) chapter planned and then an epilogue, so you can look forward to that!   
> Thank you so much for reading, and you can find me on Twitter and CC at _SinisterSound_   
> I post some updates on my writing on Twitter, and in the future I may ask about what I should write next, so check it out!   
> I hope you all have a lovely day!   
> -SS


	7. A....Pretty Good Outcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was pretty easy to write, so I’ve got you a quick update! I’ve already started working on the epilogue so it shouldn’t be to longer behind!   
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story (I can’t BELIEVE I WROTE SOMETHING OVER 100K WITHOUT LOSING THE MOTIVATION!) you guys have really kept me going!!   
> I tried to give everything the time it deserved but let me know what you think of it all, please~!   
> -SS

Seonghwa had hurt a lot of people. 

He had done it with the intention of helping others, helping good people, better people. 

Noble pride told him he was the good guy. Because he helped the good people. 

And he hurt the bad. 

The bad. 

What made bad or good? Hadn’t Hongjoong been the worst kind of person to him for the longest time? Wasn’t he now someone who sat on Seonghwa’s couch at night, forgetting about the movie playing and kissing his fingertips, only stopping when Seonghwa swatted at him with burning cheeks saying it tickled? 

There was an inherent difference, between someone like Hongjoong and someone like Jaehyun or any other person on the wrong side of the law.  But regardless… 

Seonghwa hurt people. Not just physically with sharp blows and shots, but people like Hyorin. People he manipulated, made to believe that he cared, that he was interested, that he was willing- 

And then yanking the rug out from under them once his mission was over. 

And they were  _ bad  _ people. They were the price to pay to help  _ good  _ people. 

But his stomach burned at the thought each time. 

People had hurt him. Physically, sexually, mentally- whatever type of scarring you could think of, he had it. Hongjoong had it. All of them had it. He did it back to them. 

It was a constant cycle of hurt so you couldn’t be hurt, of retaliate  _ because  _ you were hurt. Pick yourself back up after being hurt, dust yourself off and continue on because the fight  _ never fucking ended _ . 

He felt… restless. Sitting in that cubicle, still confined to desk work after he told Eden his decision not to take his place… Eden hadn’t looked surprised, just smiling almost knowingly and said it was good to have him back. 

And he worked at his desk, and he waited for the itch to go back to the field to return. 

Nothing. 

He sent other agents out to their own missions. He felt no urge or wish to follow them. Maybe something wistful, but not demanding. 

Yeosang leaned over, smiling a shit eating grin as he asked about how Hongjoong was doing. 

“He’s cleared for desk work,” Seonghwa said without looking up from his report. “It’s a pain to sit still for that long for him, but there’s not much he can do about it.” 

Yeosang hummed, leaning on his palm, which said he was in this for the long haul. “I’m noticing a distinct lack of bitching coming from you about still being on desk work,” he noted casually, but expectantly. He wanted an answer. 

Seonghwa shrugged. “I’m not in a hurry to go back out after I was almost fatally shot. I’ll take my time getting back.” 

“ _ That _ has never stopped you before, hyung,” Yeosang said, smirking. “It doesn’t matter if you’re still bleeding on a surgical table, you’re usually chomping at the bit to get back in the field.” He leaned closer. “So what’s going on inside your head right now?” 

Seonghwa stopped typing, string at the words on the screen until they blurred, and then he lowered his head. “I don’t know,” he confessed carefully. 

Did he tell Yeosang? So far, Hongjoong was the only one he had spoken at length with about it. And he did want to tell Yeosang and Wooyoung, but… 

But nothing. Seonghwa didn’t know what to do, so maybe Yeosang could pull some mind blowing bullshit out of his ass to help. 

“I’ve been spending most of my time since I got back trying to decide whether or not I should go back into the field at all.” 

And Yeosang could not hide the utter shock on his face, straightening with his eyes wide. “As in… become a reserve agent? Or leave the agency?” He was shocked. And rightfully so. 

This, perhaps even more than the whole Hongjoong situation, was completely out of character for the Seonghwa he knew. 

Work and his apartment. That was all he had. 

Yeosang knew this. 

“I’m not sure,” Seonghwa admitted, leaning back in his chair. “I just know that… I think I’m tired of the field game. I want… Maybe I should just take a break,” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “See if I get the urge back, but, Yeosang…” He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t think I want to go back out into the field.” 

He had brought it up to Hongjoong a few times. Just casual mentions of his continued confusion over the decision. And Hongjoong could only shrug, telling him it wasn’t his decision to make, but he hoped whatever Seonghwa chose made him happy. 

Happy. 

It was a very foreign word. Seonghwa didn’t focus too much on being happy. He wanted to be useful, he wanted to feel fulfilled, he wanted to be content, he wanted to be alive. There wasn’t much room for happiness in there.

He had never had something that he looked forward to. 

“Does this have to do with Hongjoong?” Yeosang asked carefully, voice guarded. 

“He’s not trying to convince me to do it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Seonghwa huffed. 

“No, hyung, I mean… Is this a sort of ‘now I have something to live for’ situation? Because of Hongjoong?” 

And Seonghwa opened his mouth, ready to snap some sort of reply, some sort of dispute because no, Hongjoong had nothing to do with this- 

Work and a sterile apartment. That’s all he had. 

Except now he had Hongjoong. Sort of. They were getting there. But he had something to look forward to. 

Work, a sterile apartment, and Hongjoong. 

Get rid of work and he was left with his apartment and Hongjoong. And… everything that came with Hongjoong. 

Stability. More. Real. A safety net of someone beside him… 

Seonghwa didn’t want to die paranoid and living in an apartment that cleaner than when he moved in. He didn’t want to die bleeding out, alone, leaving everyone behind. 

“It’s not,” he said firmly. “But… things are different. Things are changing, and I… I want to be able to give those things the attention they need without worrying about whether or not I’ll die before I get them sorted.” 

Yeosang frowned slightly. “You’ve never talked about dying on a mission before,” he said quietly. 

Well, Seonghwa was realizing a lot of things lately. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said lowly. “Like I said… things are different.” 

Because something shift inside of him. Something had changed. Staring down on Hongjoong with a tube down his throat, a weak grip on his hand, shining eyes staring back at him… Seonghwa realized that it was possible to lose him. 

It was possible for Seonghwa to die, too. And just like he struggled to keep conscious, he didn’t want to leave Hongjoong alone. Didn’t want to make him have to feel that. 

And Yeosang stared at him, confused and calculating, and there was a glint in his eye of realizing he could never fully understand what was going through Seonghwa’s mind. “Well, hyung, if Hongjoong is what gives you a life outside of work, I’m all for it.” His voice dropped, lips twitching. “But really, hyung,” he whispered, “I don’t know if you can see it… but you’re pretty fucking whipped.” 

Seonghwa frowned, and Yeosang laughed. 

“All I’m saying is that for all your confusion, you’ve got the sun shining out of your ass where he’s concerned,” Yeosang chuckled. “I’m happy for your, hyung. Really. Even if that means that you leave KQ, I’ll be glad that you’re happy.” 

Happy. Was he happy? He was certainly different than what he was before. 

Yeosang’s smile was gentle. “I’m glad you’ve got something to go home to. You deserve it.” 

Seonghwa’s chest was tight as Yeosang gave him a crooked thumbs up and rolled back to his computer. 

Something… to go home to. 

Seonghwa tried again. Tried to imagine coming home to Hongjoong already there, finding someone waiting up for him, having someone moving around the same space as him, occupying the same atmosphere… 

It was… terrifying. 

Exhilarating. 

Because Seonghwa… had spent so much of his life alone. So much of it giving and giving and giving to missions and work, all for the sake of keeping a few more people safe, and then… 

Getting what in return? 

He didn’t  _ need  _ anything back from it. He wasn’t doing it for a reward or acknowledgement, but… It was exhausting. It was draining. It was depressing, thinking about going back out, inflicting that pain on others, coming home alone, struggling to sleep- 

And then rinse and repeat. 

He wanted to help, he just wanted to stop hurting. 

(“Noble pride…”) 

Could he live… helping just behind the scenes? Sitting at a desk and filing away the works of other agents? 

He just wanted… to take a chance for once in his goddamn life. 

Say ‘fuck it’ to fear, and just go with it. See what happened. Where life took him. 

Seonghwa closed out of the report he was working on, and pulled up a list of templates for the computer, scrolling down with a sudden sense of purpose. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Seonghwa was supposed to have left an hour ago, but he marched into Eden’s office, knocking gently as he pushed the door open. 

Eden beckoned him in as he scribbled something down on a sheet of paper. “Seonghwa,” he greeted, setting aside the pen. “You’re supposed to be home already.” 

He nodded slowly, heart pounding. “I had to finish something up first,” he said, sitting a sheet of paper on his desk and sliding it over. 

Eden glanced at it, brow furrowing. “And what’s this?” he asked, pulling it closer. 

“My field resignation.” 

 

~~~~~~

 

Seonghwa leaned against the elevator doors, phone in hand as he checked the security cameras. 

Bedroom clear, bathrooms clear, kitchen clear- 

The living room was empty, save for a pixelated form leaning back on the couch. Seonghwa’s lips twitched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open. 

Hongjoong jerked awake on the couch, sitting up fully and scrubbing at his eyes, rubbing sleep from them. 

Seonghwa dropped his keys on the counter as the other’s eyes finally focused on him. “Hey,” he croaked groggily. 

Seonghwa leaned against the counter. “I locked the door when I left this morning.” 

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, making it stick in every direction. “Yeah, you did.” He glared at the clock before looking at Seonghwa. “Yesterday, you said you got off at 7.” 

He shook his head. “The point is you breaking into my apartment. And I had something to take care of something outside of my reports. It took a little longer.” 

“Then get better locks if you don’t want me to get in so easily,” Hongjoong said cheekily, smirking. “What other things? Is Eden dumping more work on you?” 

Seonghwa’s small smile faded, but it did not become heavy. “I turned in my field resignation.” 

Hongjoong sat up straighter, eyes widening. “You did? What did Eden say about it?” he demanded, using the arm of the couch to haul himself up, wincing, but making it without falling back. 

Seonghwa shrugged, anxiety still running in his veins, but it was watered down. “He said he wasn’t surprised. He was just shocked it took me this long to put it in.” 

“He knew you were going to take off field duty?” Hongjoong questioned, stopping a few feet away. He tilted slightly without his cane, but didn’t have a risk of falling for now. 

“He just said he figured it was coming,” Seonghwa said. “You know that he… uh- looked the other way with us, right?” 

Hongjoong lips pressed together. “Yeah, he made it seem like that was his plan. He was vague about it, but… it was pretty clear he was sure something was going on.” 

“I’m pretty sure he thinks this-” he gestured between them, “Had something to do with my resigning.” 

Hongjoong was quiet, lips pressed tightly. “Did it?” 

Seonghwa hesitated, afraid to be truthful, but he nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It does.” 

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed as he stepped forward quickly. “Seonghwa, I told you I didn’t want you to let what I said about the agency-” 

“It’s not that,” Seonghwa said quickly. “It has nothing to do with that. It-” He sighed, rubbing at his face. 

This was where it was hardest. 

Seonghwa could do business. He could do sharp and purposeful- asking what was okay, what wasn’t, discussing lines and boundaries and mundane things like what they wanted to eat and where they should go and what movie they should watch- 

But this sort of… speaking from the heart. Saying what he felt. Articulating what was going through his head as far as Hongjoong was concerned. 

Hongjoong could stand there with a straight face and wax poetics about Seonghwa and didn’t seem to mind a bit. 

But Seonghwa could barely force out a “You look good tonight.” 

He let go of a large breath. “Yeosang was talking with me. And even before, I had been thinking about everything, but he sort of helped put it into perspective-” It came out in a rush, tumbling over his tongue so he didn’t lose his nerve. “And basically, I decided that I didn’t want to keep hurting and manipulating people, and I didn’t think I could keep going out in the field because I don’t want to die now that I actually have something to leave behind. It’s deeper than that, but I don’t know how else to say it right now.” 

He stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. 

Hongjoong stared in silence. 

Hongjoong wet his lips slowly, swallowing. “Is… Am I that something?” 

Seonghwa pressed his lips together, not trusting his voice. He nodded once, jerkily. 

Hongjoong’s lips twitched as he laughed almost in disbelief. He didn’t say anything, though. Simply stepped forward another couple of paces until he could look up at Seonghwa and place a feather-light touch against his chest. 

“You know,” he said, voice thick. “I’m trying to keep all my urges to kiss you to a minimum, but you make it  _ so  _ damn hard.” 

Shit like that. Seonghwa wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. To run. To scream. Because everything with Hongjoong was always so much, and Seonghwa was a fucking coward afraid of intimacy and commitment and expression of emotions, despite wanting them so badly. But sometimes… 

Sometimes, he could forget about that fear, could shove it into the place where fear belonged during missions, and place a hand over the one on his chest. 

“Who said you had to suppress those urges?” 

Hongjoong’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “Can I kiss you right now?” His chest pressed against Seonghwa’s. 

This was when it was easiest to let go of fear. Face to face with Hongjoong, not alone with his own mind that was feeding off the anxiety and paranoia. 

“You may.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, almost excited, and placed his other hand on the back of Seonghwa’s neck, pulling him down against his lips. 

They had been… working on a system. 

They hadn’t had time to get it down to a routine, but so far it was working… Careful exploration had born the reality that there was no longer an urge to keep the kiss as base as possible. There was no longer a fear to press forward. They were shaking off the mindset that there were things they  _ had  _ to do with each other, to each other, following certain actions. 

If they just rested their lips together, it was because they  _ wanted  _ to. And if they pressed for deeper, for more, it was because they  _ wanted  _ to. 

There had only been one instance, in the past week, where Seonghwa wrapped his arms around Hongjoong waist, pulling him flush, and the other told him to stop. Seonghwa had pulled away, going to remove himself completely, but Hongjoong caught his wrist, shaking his head. 

“You’re fine,” he said, chest rising and falling quickly from kissing and the sudden urge to stop. “I just…don’t lock your arms, okya?” 

Seonghwa didn’t know if it was him feeling claustrophobic or just a general dislike for being surrounded like that, but he didn’t really care the reasoning. He nodded. 

It had startled both of them. Seonghwa was hyper aware of his hands, keeping them to Hongjoong’s waist gently, waiting for another line to be crossed, and their kisses pulled back to soft pecks. 

Hongjoong whispered quiet reassurances that Seonghwa was fine, he was okay, he could keep going- Until he physically grabbed Seonghwa’s hands and pressed them harder against his hips. “You’re fine,” he urged. “You can relax.” 

It was terrifying. And it caused his heart to leap to his throat, but it was… 

They were working on it. The whole… talking and being together thing. They were slightly more confident. More ready. It was still overwhelming, and sometimes Seonghwa thought he was actually going to die when Hongjoong smiled at him gently, warmly. 

For no reason. Just staring at Seonghwa and smiling as if that was all the reason he needed. 

Hongjoong pressed fully against Seonghwa (careful not to push his back against the counter), his neck craning to keep contact against his lips, hand trailing over Seonghwa’s shoulders. 

They were exploring. 

Hongjoong pulled away, expression sober as their lips brushed. “Is it really what you want?” he whispered, as if afraid someone else might hear. “Resigning from the field?”

Seonghwa wet his lips, eyes searching through Hongjoong’s clear ones, not looking for anything, just watching. “I think so,” he said firmly. “And if not… well, they’d be crazy not to hire me back on if I asked, right?”

Hongjoong chuckled, nodding, though his smile was subdued. “And you… you’re fine if I were to continue? Being a field agent, that is?”

Seonghwa nodded quickly. Part of him wanted to laugh, but it was a serious question. “You can do whatever you want. I won’t even try to sway you one way or the other.” 

Hongjoong moved slowly, careful of his back, wrapping arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “So you’re okay if I… keep sleeping with strangers? Manipulating them?”

Seonghwa’s brow furrowed, taking Hongjoong’s hands from around his neck and holding them in his hands. “Hongjoong, I have absolutely no bearing or say in how you live your life,” he said, rubbing gentle circles into the backs of his hands. “But even if I did… I want you to do what  _ you  _ want. The same way you want me to do what  _ I  _ want. If you want to keep doing what I can’t, I  _ want  _ you to do that.” He huffed lightly, brushing Hongjoong’s cheek. “It’s sort of impossible for the two of us to be exclusive. We’re going to have to make allowances for the lives we choose to live.” 

Hongjoong didn’t look very much like he believed Seonghwa. He sighed, stepping towards the couch, pulling Hongjoong along carefully and helping him sit so they faced each other, their knees brushing. 

“Look,” Seonghwa sighed, still holding his hands. “I didn’t resign from the field because I thought I was doing  _ wrong  _ things or  _ bad  _ things. I’m not going to think you’re a horrible person for continuing to do that. I just…” He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “All I had to fill my life with before was work. It was the only thing I had, so it was the only thing I did. I needed that rush, that purpose because otherwise… what else did I have? I couldn’t stand sitting at a desk, being what I thought was useless.” 

He swallowed, Hongjoong continuing to frown slightly. 

“There was no time to think about anything else. But I… You and I- I just want to try sitting on the sidelines. I want to see how that feels, what it does… and if you want to go back out there, if you want to pick right back up where you left off, you do it without  _ any  _ sort of okay from me. Don’t think I hate agent work now. I just… don’t think  _ I  _ can keep doing it.” 

Hongjoong lowered his eyes, staring at his bare nails, picking at them for a moment. “I thought… after you brought up resigning the first time… I considered leaving too. Trying for something else, or just living off of what I have saved up for a while.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “But I think… I want to try going back out there… knowing that there’s someone waiting for me back here.”

Seonghwa was fine with that. Really and truly. He just wanted Hongjoong to be happy. Content. Fulfilled. Whatever, all of it. 

Did Seonghwa have an issue with Hongjoong continuing his career of sleeping with people while supposedly being in a relationship with Seonghwa?

Fuck no, he didn’t. What sort of hypocrite would it make him? 

He just wanted Hongjoong safe. As long as he got home in one piece at the end of the day, Seonghwa would call that a win. 

Hongjoong looked up at him, eyes determined. “I want to see what it changes, what it does for me… knowing that you’d be here. I think it’d be… grounding. I think those people could do whatever they want, if I got to come back to you.” 

Seonghwa chewed on the inside of his lip to buy time to let him heart calm the fuck down. 

There was… trust, he decided. Running between them two of them like a current. A placement of one piece in Seonghwa’s hand, one piece in Hongjoong… 

This is what we want. This is what we want with each other. 

“So that settles it,” Seonghwa said, fingers intertwining with Hongjoong’s lightly. “I guess I’ll be seeing more of Yeosang and Wooyoung around the offices. And I guess I’ll see you when…” 

He realized Hongjoong was part of a different section. His reports wouldn’t go through Seonghwa’s. 

“I’ll see you whenever we decide to meet up next, I guess,” he finished, Hongjoong’s lips twitching. 

“Oh, let me count the minutes,” he said, clasping Seonghwa’s hand tightly. He brought one up, kissing the knuckles lightly. “I hope you’re happy, Seonghwa,” he whispered against the skin. Seonghwa wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it. 

He did. 

Seonghwa had never taken steps for his own happiness. He liked to think that this one could be the first. 

And he kissed Hongjoong gently in return because… well, maybe that would make him happy in the moment (a second step). 

 

~~~~~~

 

It was slow. 

Recovery was a long and slow process. 

Seonghwa stayed in the office. He wrote and filed reports. He went to meetings. He stayed within the little office building, 9 to 5 (more like 7 to 7 because he was a workaholic) and he… existed like that.

Yeosang and Wooyoung were elated to have him around more, dragging him to sit with them and Yunho during lunch and demanding every detail of his and Hongjoong’s life. 

“Don’t make me get info from Mingi on Hongjoong’s team,” Yunho threatened, aiming deadly chopsticks at Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa forgot how much office gossip was a thing, but his life, at least, remained between the three of them. 

(Protected dutifully by Wooyoung who chucked a dumpling across the break room one day- “Get your nose out of our  _ business _ , Lee! Fucking eavesdropping shitbag-” Seonghwa’s love life was in good hands.)  

The cane was no longer needed. The brace came off. The pain had faded to stiffness had waned into a barely-present ache that he no longer even felt. Months had passed, only visible in the fading of pain.

Seonghwa waited for the antsy urge to return to missions to strike. 

But it didn’t. 

Seonghwa kept helping people. Just not in the field. 

Seonghwa worked, and he got updates on what missions were going around, and he filed reports and organized police responses and handed packets over to Eden… 

And then he went home. No bruises from someone who was a little too rough, no ache that made walking uncomfortable. Not even the aftermath of the bullet present. 

It was healing. It was moving on. It was settled down. 

It was a long  journey. Day by day struggles of coping and healing and toeing lines and prodding wounds. It was  _ months _ . Almost five, if Seonghwa had counted correctly. 

And Hongjoong was there. Right beside him. 

On nights when Hongjoong wasn’t on a mission, he would show up at Seonghwa’s. 

(Sometimes, Seonghwa would go to Hongjoong’s, but time had shown that Hongjoong prefered coming to his.) 

Sometimes Seonghwa opened the door, and Hongjoong had already asleep on his couch. (All it had taken was a word from Seonghwa to sleep in his bed if he was going to nap, the couch was too uncomfortable, and then it became common to find him fast asleep in his room after some day-time mission or just after a late night.)

When he shoved open the door, tired and dragging his feet, rubbing at his eyes that ached from staring at a screen… and Hongjoong was sitting at the kitchen counter, eating ramen, turning and smiling when he entered- as if the expression didn’t make Seonghwa feel like he had been shot all over again. 

It was jarring each time. But Seonghwa’s chest tightened and made it hard to breathe as he became used to see it. 

Sometimes, Seonghwa had barely opened the door before Hongjoong was in his arms, kissing him hard enough to bruise. 

Time gave them routine. Time gave them skills. 

It taught them to read each other. To know what was normal and what wasn’t. It taught them to see the small changes that meant everything. 

Reading movements and tones, able to guide themselves over what was allowed right now and what wasn’t. Maybe they didn’t guess right every time, but Seonghwa could see in the pinch of Hongjoong’s brow when something was getting too close to a line. 

And he retreated. 

Time was their ally. Time taught them. Time healed. 

It took Hongjoong’s cane, and then brace, and then fixed his lungs, and it gave them opportunity. Opportunity to be braver than they were. 

Adventurous. Brave. Daring. 

Building off of months of existing together, walking together, being together. 

No longer meek prods with terrified glances, waiting for the thread between them to snap. 

They were stronger now. Longer. And they could afford to be bold. They were comfortable with each other. At ease, and willing to let whatever happened happen. 

Tossing pieces of food into each other’s mouths from across the room while they just… talked. 

Seonghwa decided he liked Hongjoong’s voice. Liked the lilt and pull and rise and fall of it. Sometimes, he closed his eyes, focusing just on his tone, humming along to show he was still listening. 

And Seonghwa began to learn more about Hongjoong. What he liked (music and ramen) and what he didn’t (mathematics and green vegetables). 

They didn’t fight the current anymore. Seonghwa let himself be pulled along, simply focusing on not letting go of the hand clutched tightly in his own. 

Seonghwa didn’t feel the urge to hold and control when Hongjoong straddled his lap, licking into his mouth and biting at his lips. 

Hongjoong didn’t tense when Seonghwa used his hair to tilt his mouth, claiming more, harder, deeper. 

Healed bodies and time on their side, Seonghwa and Hongjoong continued to gravitate around each other. 

Date nights were mostly just sitting around Seonghwa’s apartment. Spending time together was easier to find, with Seonghwa’s basically fixed schedule and Hongjoong’s almost-exclusively night time missions. Days and days and days of getting used to, of familiarizing, of accustoming himself to seeing Hongjoong wandering around his space in sweatpants and t-shirt. 

And gravitation brought extra clothes from Hongjoong’s apartment into Seonghwa’s (because he needed to go to a mission right after this and it was too much hassle to go home to get them). And Seonghwa was a bit of a neat freak, so he told Hongjoong to just hang them in his closet, to just make a space in his drawers for the extra clothes. 

He brought an extra toothbrush because he spent the night so much, he was tired of having to go home just to brush his teeth in the morning. 

(Nothing happened during the nights. And the first time Hongjoong had fallen asleep in his bed while they were talking, Seonghwa had almost panicked, almost woken him and told him to go home- 

But he didn’t. He stared at Hongjoong, lips parted as he breathed in sleep, eyelashes brushing his cheeks, knees curled up like they had been as they talked about their days… 

Seonghwa laid down next to him. He turned off the light. And for the first time in… 

What? His life? Seonghwa slept with another person beside him. And neither of them had touched each other. He tossed and turned during the night, which must have irritated Hongjoong because he rolled over in his sleep, arms and legs tossing over Seonghwa’s as his head came to rest on Seonghwa’s chest. 

It was terrifying. But when Hongjoong woke up the next morning, he just glanced up at Seonghwa through sleep-clouded eyes and smiled lazily, whispering a quiet good morning. They got up, they got ready for their days… 

And it just sort of never stopped being a thing.) 

And then Seonghwa would come home to groceries and Hongjoong saying he needed actual food in his house, so Seonghwa made them dinner, and Hongjoong ate and stayed the night (even when he did get out on missions). 

And Hongjoong hung around during the day, but he had night missions, and he would get bored, so he brought over his laptops. And some books. And movies that they had wanted to watch. And Seonghwa got used to just straightening them up, but leaving them out. 

His apartment seemed more lived in than it had since he moved in. 

And sometimes Seonghwa would get home, and Hongjoong wasn’t there. But Seonghwa knew he was on a mission until late. So he stayed up doing whatever he wanted, sometimes finishing up some leftover work from the day, and then he would lay down and he would drift in and out of sleep until he heard the door unlock- 

(Seonghwa had given Hongjoong a key relatively quickly. So that he could stop breaking into Seonghwa’s apartment every time he wanted to come over.) 

-And Seonghwa would listen to him enter the room quietly, kicking off shoes and throwing off leather and jeans and pulling on something to sleep in. Heard him in the bathroom, scrubbing makeup and hairspray off of his body, and then the bed creaking as Hongjoong crawled in beside Seonghwa, damp hair and soft skin. 

Sometimes he just laid on his own side of the large bed. But mostly, he moved right up against Seonghwa, grabbing his hand and laying his head on his shoulder, taking in deep breaths, breathing in his scent, and letting them go tiredly, burying his face in Seonghwa’s chest. 

And Hongjoong knew Seonghwa was always awake. So he would nuzzle and rub against Seonghwa’s chest and shoulder until Seonghwa would run fingers through his hair, massaging his neck and shoulders with one hand until Hongjoong actually fell asleep. Seonghwa would kiss his hair, even after he fell asleep, burying his nose there in the long strands. 

Just because he could. 

And even after- 

How long had it been? They were even further down the road. (It must have been closer to 10 months, right?) It became more usual for Seonghwa to sleep with a weight against his chest than not. 

It was more common for Hongjoong to spend his days in Seonghwa’s apartment than not. 

And then one day… Hongjoong pushed his eggs around his plate, pensive and swallowing. 

“I just wanted to let you know,” he said quietly, making Seonghwa glance up with a worried frown. He swallowed, not meeting Seonghwa’s eyes, which was unusual and concerning. “I wanted to let you know that, uh… the lease on my apartment-” He gestured over his shoulder jerkily- “Uh, the lease is up next month.” 

And it took Seonghwa 45 full seconds of staring at Hongjoong to figure out what the question was implying. And then another 16 seconds to get his mouth to work enough for him to formulate an answer of- 

“You were still paying rent on your apartment?”

Hongjoong laughed, visibly shaken with relief, and from there, it was... 

Well, no different, really. Hongjoong had practically been living at Seonghwa’s for more than a couple months. Now, they just had an extra dresser in his room. More clothes to wash and fold. The previously office space he had was used to hold mixing laptops and sound equipment, too. 

And Hongjoong… he just never left. And Seonghwa didn’t want him to. 

Seonghwa got used to a little bit of clutter and junk around his apartment. 

Seonghwa got used to sighing as he headed home from work, only to remember that Hongjoong had a night off, and would be waiting for him. 

Seonghwa got used to waking up quietly, getting dressed without waking Hongjoong who would sleep late after missions, and kissing his forehead gently before he left. (Sometimes Hongjoong woke up, smiling up at him half-asleep, murmuring a quiet goodbye, and sometimes he continued to doze on, expression peaceful and unbothered. Seonghwa heart continued to clench each time.) 

They were comfortable. They… Seonghwa had to imagine this is what a relationship was like. It seemed like they were doing a pretty good job, Seonghwa and Hongjoong sitting in the living room until one of them started nodding off, and the other would drag them to bed, laying down together. 

(Seonghwa began waiting up for Hongjoong on his missions, sitting up in the bed and reading or fixing reports until he heard the now-familiar steps he could recognize in his sleep. The first time he did it, Hongjoong stopped in shock before his expression melting into something softer. 

(That particular night had ended with Hongjoong straddling his lap and framing his face gently, kissing the breath out of his lungs, but that almost amazed expression never left his face.)) 

And with the comfortable nights and now-permanent residence beside each other… 

Well, other things progressed, too. 

It was slow, tortuous months of inch by inch movement towards each other. But time allowed them to test, to learn, and to progress.  Soft kisses spread into deeper ones into rougher ones into longer ones into closer ones into hotter ones-

The question was no longer of real. No longer of more. But of how much. And time allowed them much. 

Times of slow kisses that stayed at their lips, laying in his-  _ their- _ bed and Hongjoong half-asleep but tugging Seonghwa’s hand until he rolled over to provide. 

Times of quick ones, Hongjoong’s thighs spread over his lap as he lifted himself up to claim as much of Seonghwa’s mouth as possible, body slotting together like puzzle pieces, hot touches and breaths dragging across their skin. 

Seonghwa could question no action of Hongjoong’s as lacking meaning. 

Hongjoong saw nothing of Seonghwa’s as being faked or appeasing. 

And months-  _ months-  _ (almost a year? He wasn’t sure when he was supposed to be counting from.) down the line… they had set new boundaries. Ones that allowed them more freedom. Ones that allowed them to operate without fear, just with caution. Ones that allowed more than just kissing. 

Ones that allowed touching. Trailing hands from hair to spines to slowly wandering lower. Bolder touches, stronger touches, in increasingly intimate areas, in increasingly heated situations. Each time with a pause- not a hesitation- but a pause, waiting for rejection. And if none was given… 

Hongjoong was intoxicating in ways that no other human being was. They way he moved, the way he pushed and pulled in tandem, the way he  _ sounded _ , the way he gave back, the way he responded, the way he clung and refused to let go- 

Seonghwa had been with hundred of people, and none of them... None of them were Hongjoong. 

None of them had his exact brand of smirk when Seonghwa’s hands found his ass. 

None of them quipped and flirted shamelessly, but it was so familiar and… almost an inside joke at this point, making Seonghwa shove him away before drawing him closer. 

None of them made noises- not of lust but of pleasure- like him. None of them stared up at Seonghwa with lights in their eyes as they dragged to hands to intimate places, just wanting his touch. None of them smiled so hard they couldn’t even properly kiss as Seonghwa finally got the courage to whisper small nothings that no longer made him hesitate. 

None of them held his hand with gentle fingers, kissing each knuckle and whispering things he couldn’t hear against the skin. 

None of them tried to make him dinner that was thrown away in favor of ramen. None of them laid beside him, tracing patterns in his skin and murmuring angry complaints about their day into the darkness. None of them sought comfort from his touch. 

None of them sat beside him under the guise of watching a movie, but leaving it abandoned after a hour, as they always did, in favor of tasting lips and skin. 

Seonghwa thought Hongjoong would have more reservations, more days with more rules, but surprisingly, the days of laying down concrete boundaries were few and far between. Only occurring after harsh days and long missions that left him spent. And more often than not, it was just Hongjoong needed a pause, a moment to collect his thoughts and breaths again before allowing everything to continue on. 

But on days without those barriers, Hongjoong was everywhere, smiling against his skin and testing the limits of where he could go, what he could taste, whispering quiet words against Seonghwa’s skin. He took Seonghwa’s hand. Kissed him first. Climbed into his lap with bright smiles and an enthusiasm that had frightened him at first. 

But Seonghwa learned- 

No. 

Seonghwa  _ allowed  _ himself to feel eager.

To stop worrying and thinking and psyching himself out and just give in to what he _felt._

To match Hongjoong’s pace of desire, to touch just because he could, to kiss just because they had time, to whisper against his lips all the things he used to be too afraid to say- 

“I want to hold you-” 

“You feel so nice-” 

“I want to give you everything-” 

Catchphrases. Words he had whispered a thousand times meaninglessly- 

They hurt to say now. They caught in his throat and choked him up because he meant them. From the bottom of his heart, from the deepest pits of his stomach, he  _ meant  _ every word- 

The line was drawn at clothing. 

Hands slipped under shirts, feeling skin against skin, and into the waistbands of pants, feeling smooth planes, but they never came off. Not by any sort of agreement or pre-planning, but… 

Just because they could read the signs. The timing wasn’t right. They were just waiting for the right time. They were just waiting. They just were going to wait a little longer- 

Time was on their side. They had time. 

And Seonghwa had Hongjoong. Had something to look forward to, something to hold onto, something to cherise, something to… to… 

The Word existed on the tip of his tongue, but never passed it. It was too heavy to say, but not untrue. He just needed time. He kept that deep in his chest because like other things, it wasn’t time.  

And “the time” was never pre-determined. It was never assigned a due date or penciled in or pushed back. 

It just happened. 

It snuck up on them, in the late late hours of the night when Hongjoong returned home just before midnight, peeling leather and lace off of his skin, muttering something about taking a shower. 

They had a system. Seonghwa sat and waited for Hongjoong to finish cleaning up, he would come to bed, and either demand a good night kiss or claim one himself, and then Seonghwa and he would fall back to asleep, hands stroking soothingly, like a physical lullaby. 

So while he was gone, Seonghwa sat up, turning on a lamp, and waiting in the bed until the shower turned off, and Hongjoong returning, sweatpants clinging to narrow hips and one of Seonghwa’s shirts hanging off, low on his neck, as he scrubbed at his hair. His face was bare, as Seonghwa was now most accustomed to seeing him. He looked soft, his hair fluffed and damp as he dragged rough fingers through it. 

“I stole one of your shirts,” he muttered, as if Seonghwa could miss the shirt five sizes too big on him. His voice was tired, which probably meant the mission had been more difficult than anticipated, but his mood didn’t seem to be a bad one. Just tired. 

Seonghwa simply hummed, watching him as he moved throughout the room with a confidence brought with time. 

“The guy was an asshole,” he sighed, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge as he flicked water off of his hair. “He called my ass too flat,” he huffed, giving Seonghwa a disbelieving stare. “And I’m pretty sure he took out a chunk of my hair.” He ran a hand through it, and Seonghwa smiled sympathetically. 

“Your ass is fine, and your hair is all still there,” he promised, running a hand through it alongside Hongjoong’s. He closed his eyes immediately, humming in contentment, leaning into the touch.

“My ass  _ is  _ fine,” he quipped tiredly, head tilting to meet Seonghwa’s hand.  

And Seonghwa thought, randomly, back to that first night of knowing each other, where Hongjoong had murmured against his lips about liking his ass. Well, Seonghwa was beginning to think Hongjoong had a thing with having his hair touched. He practically melted against his chest when Seonghwa scratched at his scalp, massaging it gently. Like a cat. 

Hongjoong hummed, muscles relaxing as he shifted until his body rested against Seonghwa’s, leaning against the headboard. His eyes were closed, head tilting this way and that to have Seonghwa massage where he wanted. 

It was automatic. No longer an action that caused hesitation or concern. Hongjoong’s favorite pastime was leaning against Seonghwa (trumped only by head massages). 

“‘Missed you,” he murmured sleepily as Seonghwa moved down to rub at his neck that was tensed. He made a pleased sound as Seonghwa rubbed at one spot near the base, shoulders tensing. 

Seonghwa chuckled despite the way his heart swelled. “You saw me last night.” 

It wasn’t uncommon for them to have schedules that missed each other. Seonghwa returning only at night when Hongjoong was away at some bar, working. Hongjoong only waking up after Seonghwa had left for his own work.  These passed two days had been like that, but it was hardly a very long time. 

Hongjoong hummed. “I always miss you more when I have to deal with assholes. I don’t think about you as much.” 

(Seonghwa remembered a night when Hongjoong laid on top of him, kissing him lazily, as if waiting for either to fall asleep first. “I never think of you when I’m on a mission,” Hongjoong confessed, looking slightly guilty about it. When prompted to explain, he simply sighed. “I don’t want to taint this-” A warm press of lips to his- “by bringing it there. I want to keep it here. Between us. I don’t want to think of you while they fuck me. I don’t want to risk associating the two. But it’s easier, knowing that as soon as I’m done with them, I get to come home to this.” 

Seonghwa had pulled him down firmly, Hongjoong smiling against his lips as fingers curled into his shirt.) 

Hongjoong groaned, tired, but rolled over to stare up at Seonghwa. “Kiss me?” he questioned, and Seonghwa laughed because it wasn’t a question of permission, it was a show of being too lazy to try and exert the effort to kiss him himself. 

He pulled away. “If you’re so tired,” he said, grabbing Hongjoong’s hips and pulling him further down the bed until he laid on his back, head on the pillow, “then maybe you should just go straight to bed.” He tapped a teasing finger against his nose. 

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes, lips twisting in displeasure, but Seonghwa only laughed, long, damp hair splayed across the pillow. 

But apparently teasing was a good way to wake someone up because Hongjoong was awake enough to grab Seonghwa by the collar of his shirt and drag him down for a kiss. He laughed again against his lips, and Hongjoong ran his tongue along Seonghwa’s to shut him up. 

Seonghwa stopped teasing, still smiling as he pulled away to reposition himself above Hongjoong before leaning down and kissing him deeply, hands framing his face on the bed on either side and one knee planted between his legs. 

Hongjoong hummed deep in his throat, tilting for better access, hand coming and curling in Seonghwa’s shirt, sliding along the exposed skin of his neck, shoulders, back- 

Hongjoong pulled him closer, a sweet noise sounding from his chest as he opened his mouth, inviting and eager, and Seonghwa wouldn’t deny him that, taking over and kissing Hongjoong how he wanted. And Hongjoong simply melted against the pillows, allowing Seonghwa to grasp the reins, pliant and willing, but never stagnant. 

He wanted to give Hongjoong everything. Hongjoong gave back tenfold, regardless. He remembered a time, not terribly long ago but that seemed like ages, when they would have been scandalized to think they could ever kiss like this, this freely, this openly. 

Seonghwa parted to breathe, but Hongjoong pulled him back down, his lips tinged a bit more desperate, working against Seonghwa’s like he was afraid he would walk away. He made an almost frightened noise in the back of his throat, and Seonghwa rubbed a comforting hand up and down his side, soothing the desperation. 

This was normal. Hongjoong was fine continuing on his missions, but there were some he returned from that drove him closer to Seonghwa, seeking that real intimacy after hours of forcing smiles and faking laughs. Sometimes, it was worse than this, Hongjoong practically trying to meld with Seonghwa, and sometimes he simply curled up on Seonghwa’s chest, asking with a quiet voice to just be held- like being wrapped in a safety blanket. 

The coordination of the kiss began to deteriorate as Hongjoong moved back against Seonghwa in heated, desperate kisses of tongue and teeth. No longer a fearful desperation, but an eager one. It devolved into panting into each other’s mouths, Hongjoong’s hands traversing rapidly across Seonghwa’s body- up his arms, through his hair, scratching at whatever piece of skin he could reach-  

Hongjoong moaned into his mouth as Seonghwa ran his tongue across his soft palette, sucking Hongjoong’s tongue into his mouth- 

His blood raced heatedly beneath his skin. He could practically feel Hongjoong’s pulse through his skin- 

Hongjoong suddenly rolled his hips upward, catching his crotch on Seonghwa’s thigh and broke the kiss as his head fell back against the pillow, gasping and breathing heavily as he did it again, a very obviously hard outline dragging along Seonghwa’s thin sleeping pants, a high pitched whine crossing his lips. 

“ _ Seonghwa- _ ”

His hips froze as he cut himself off. 

Hongjoong went very still beneath him. 

This wasn’t necessarily anything new. It was actually pretty common for Hongjoong to grind down on his lap while they kissed or for Hongjoong to palm at Seonghwa’s crotch to distract him from whatever movie was on. It never went too far, but it wasn’t something that usually caused a panic.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa panted, trying to get his breath back, tensed and ready to pull away, watching him pant as his eyes remained shut, cheeks flushed. “Are you-” 

Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open, half-lidded as he stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Seonghwa, I-” 

And there was a glint of fear in his eyes. 

No. Not just a glint. Hongjoong was terrified. 

Seonghwa moved to get off of him, but Hongjoong caught his wrist, mouth open to say something, but nothing came out. Seonghwa could see the familiar fear-cloud overtaking his irises. He simply squeezed his wrist in a weak grip. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa  whispered quietly, one hand coming to brush at Hongjoong’s cheek as his eyes fell closed again, as if it would stop whatever was happening. “What’s wrong?” He murmured, searching Hongjoong’s face. There wasn’t the familiar pinch of discomfort or a desire to flee. He just looked scared. He hadn’t let go of his wrist. “Hongjoong, come on, you have to talk to me,” he coaxed. He stayed close because that’s what Hongjoong wanted. “Open your eyes for me.” 

Hongjoong took a deep breath, chest rising high before sinking back down, and he opened terrified eyes to stare up at Seonghwa.  

Seonghwa wet his lips. “Was it too much?” he questioned quietly, slowly, brushing his knuckle over the curve of his soft cheek. “What do you need me to do?” Because Seonghwa could make no move without word from Hongjoong. Not while he looked at him like this. That was an unbreakable rule. 

And Hongjoong took another deep breath, swallowing thickly. Seonghwa waited patiently, his blood rushing in a river of worry and anxiety. He didn’t know what caused this, but he wanted to take it away. 

He just wanted to stop whatever it was, to comfort him, to do the right thing, but he needed Hongjoong to talk to him, to confide, to trust- 

“I love you.” 

It was barely a breath. 

Not even a whisper. 

Ghosting across Hongjoong’s lips like an afterthought of an echo, barely even distinguishable from the breeze floating by- 

And Seonghwa felt like three separate knives had just been buried in his chest. 

He felt like lightning was racing across his skin. 

Like water was flooding his nose and mouth, choking him. 

Like a fire had just been lit in the pit of his stomach, burning from the inside out. 

Like every part of him wanted to jerk away. 

Like every part of him wanted to push closer. 

And Hongjoong stared, in quiet, terrified silence, his words echoing and rebounding and reverberating- 

Seonghwa kissed him. Not hurried. Slow. Deep. Desperate. 

He pressed his lips against Hongjoong’s, and Hongjoong was tense against him, hand coming to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Seonghwa felt like every particle in his body was slowly burning away, lips moving against Hongjoong’s slowly, his lips reciprocating the action. 

It was the best, indescribable feeling burning him alive. And only when the balloon in his chest was too big to breathe, did he pull away, chest heaving. 

He pressed his forehead to Hongjoong’s, only centimeters away from wide, scared eyes. 

“You’re a braver person than me, Hongjoong,” he breathed against his lips. 

He felt like he was dying. 

“I knew the name for it for a while,” he confessed quietly, because he had. But he couldn’t let it pass his lips. 

He felt like he was living for the first time. 

“But I couldn’t say it.” 

He traced a hand across a soft cheek, Hongjoong leaning into the touch, though he didn’t look away. 

“I was too afraid to put a label on it. I’m sorry,” he whispered, breath ghosting cross Hongjoong’s lips. “I should have said it sooner. I owed that much to you.” 

Hongjoong wet his lips, fearful, hopeful, misty eyes boring into Seonghwa’s. “Say it now,” he whispered, fingers curling in his shirt. 

Seonghwa swallowed. 

He wasn’t sure…Since the beginning of this whole thing... Seonghwa wasn’t sure if he ever imagined getting love. 

He knew that Hongjoong was more. Real. Meaning. But he had been too cynical, too cryptic, too pessimistic to ever believe he could truly feel love. Love didn’t exist. He could never get love. 

Hongjoong had love, maybe. Hongjoong had it in his eyes every time he looked at Seonghwa, warm and pulsing and overflowing, as if he couldn’t keep all of it inside. Hongjoong had love. 

But Seonghwa… Seonghwa could never have love. He had too much cowardice. Too much dark. Too much fear. 

But… what else could he call it? What else could you call an all encompassing, burning coal in the pit of his stomach that blazed each time Hongjoong smiled at him. The twisting in his chest when Hongjoong fell asleep against his chest. The light headed spinning that came with each brush of his fingers along Seonghwa’s. 

Seonghwa had never thought he could get love, but it had been staring at him the whole time. 

Longer than he could ever imagine. 

Maybe since pounding club music and reeking alcohol and wandering hands. 

Maybe since hospital beds and searching hands, grasping onto fingers like they were the only thing keeping them afloat.

But here… here is where it bloomed. 

There was no other word for it. There was nothing else it could be. Nothing else could make his heart twist and his stomach churn and his head spin and his skin tingle and his blood race- 

Nothing else but Hongjoong. 

There was only one answer. And Seonghwa may have been too cowardly to say it, but it was  _ there _ .

Like a smudge in the corner of a window.  

Maybe not constantly acknowledged. But if you knew it was there… if you knew to look for it… you could see it. 

It was always there. 

“ _ I love you, Hongjoong _ .” 

It felt like puzzle pieces clicking into place. 

Hongjoong’s eyes fell closed, as if savoring the words, a shocked breath stuttering out. 

It felt like a cool stream flowing across his skin. 

Hongjoong laughed, the sound shaking and uneven as tears slid down his cheeks. 

It felt surreal and impossible. 

Seonghwa kissed the streaks away. 

But it was all right here in front of him. 

It was Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong who opened his eyes, disbelieving and warm and wide and for once Seonghwa felt like maybe he was looking back at Hongjoong the same way. 

“I love you,” he whispered again, kissing Hongjoong again because he could, because he wanted to, because it was all he could do to keep from choking up over the lump growing in his throat as Hongjoong’s tears wet his own cheek. 

It was all they could have ever been. Inevitable, despite its impossibility. Nothing but love would have made them last. 

He said it again, trailing his lips across Hongjoong’s cheek, whispering it against his neck, against his collarbone, accenting each repeat with a gentle kiss. 

Hongjoong held onto him for dear life, chest rising and falling rapidly, as if they kissing the breath from their lungs, his own lips forming the words over and over, their voices overlapping.

Such a terrifying phrase. 

But so easy to let fall once it was placed the first time. 

Seonghwa wanted Hongjoong to believe it. Seonghwa never wanted Hongjoong to doubt it because he didn’t doubt him. Seonghwa could never doubt Hongjoong. 

Never.  

Hongjoong tugged on his shirt until Seonghwa moved back up to press their lips together, humming against Hongjoong who kissed him as if he might lose him. As if saying it would trip some wire that would send walls crashing down between them. 

Seonghwa never wanted to stop kissing him. Never wanted to let him go. Never wanted to let him think Seonghwa could ever leave. Seonghwa was here. The thought of leaving… it was more paralyzing than the fear of staying had been. 

They parted, Hongjoong not letting him go far as he breathed against his lips, hand curled at his neck, keeping Seonghwa close, fingers shaking against his skin and  residual fear clinging to dark irses. 

“I could only say it,” he whispered, short on breath “because I realized something.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t swallow. Wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Breaths and breathing and everything else were gone. Muted. The world had been put on hold, only the darkness of the late night around them. 

“What?” Seonghwa whispered, golden lamplight scattered across Hongjoong’s skin. 

Hongjoong curled his fingers into Seonghwa’s shirt tightly. “I want you to make love to me.” 

It… 

Everything stopped. 

Seonghwa had never even considered it. 

There was fucking. There was banging. There was having sex. There was sleeping with someone. 

Making love. 

It sounded fake. Something that didn’t really happen. A euphemism for people who were too shy to call it something more realistic. 

It sounded… 

It was... 

He fucked. He had sex. He walked through like a raging storm, taking whatever he needed, giving whatever the other person decided they wanted, and then left. Never spared them another thought. 

Making love… He wanted to laugh, but there was no way around the slow clench of his heart. 

It clicked inside his chest. The words flowing over the cracks and crevices like warm water, filling and soothing and- 

Seonghwa wanted that. 

He didn’t want sex. He didn’t want fucking. He wanted to hold Hongjoong and focus on nothing but him, having him focus on nothing but Seonghwa- 

Not fast. Not seeking only some sort of quick pleasure- 

Lasting. Slow. At whatever pace they chose. Not for the purpose of pleasure or getting off, but just to touch. To be with him. To  _ want  _ to give something, instead of handing it over because it was required. Getting something in return because both of them just wanted to  _ be  _ with each other. 

Seonghwa had scattered pieces of Hongjoong. He wanted to see all of him. He wanted to give all of himself to Hongjoong in return, mutual and sharing and trusting. 

Seonghwa had never done that with someone. 

He would gladly try to give it to Hongjoong. He would give everything to Hongjoong. 

“Now?” he asked quietly, eyes meeting Hongjoong’s that couldn’t look away. 

Hongjoong wet his lips, nodding slowly. “If you want.” 

If they wanted. 

Only if it was something they wanted. 

They controlled their own relationship. The pattern didn’t go: touching, kissing, sex. They had rearranged the pattern, jumped over parts, added pieces in… because they wanted to. Not because they thought they had to. 

And God, did Seonghwa want to. 

“I’ve never…. Done that before,” Seonghwa warned him, as if Hongjoong could forget. 

Hongjoong managed a weak chuckle that sounded almost like an attempt not to cry. “That’s okay,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’ve never done it either.” Hongjoong laced their fingers tightly. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised. 

Seonghwa was terrified. 

This was sudden. 

But it was such a long time coming. 

He was terrified, but there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted this. Wanted this with Hongjoong. Wanted his first time- 

This was his first time. His first time doing something like this. He wanted to give Hongjoong that. He wanted that from Hongjoong. 

Each of them held part of the other. Each of them gave part of themselves over. 

Seonghwa wanted to carry that part. To give it in return. 

He nodded. “I want to,” he said, voice catching. “I want to make love to you.” 

Hongjoong shivered slightly, biting his lips hard as he nodded. “Since we’re both new to this,” he whispered, “Let’s help each other out.” A ghost of laugh on his lips. “I think the first step would to be lose this.” He tugged on Seonghwa’s shirt lightly, some of the fear melting away into simple nerves- highlighted by an anticipating glint. 

Seonghwa nodded, and holy shit this was really happening. 

Seonghwa thought it would be more... Set up. A long talk, a decision that today was special enough to make it happen, or maybe it wouldn’t happen ever, at all. He expected more build up, more warning- 

What more build up could you have than a year?

He kissed Hongjoong. Because that’s one thing he knew. One thing he was sure of. Hongjoong sucked in a sharp breath as Seonghwa shifted, moving his legs to take his weight from his hands as he curled his fingers into the hem of Hongjoong’s shirt. 

Both of them paused. 

Seonghwa breathed against his lips. “May I?” 

Hongjoong swallowed, nodded. “Be my guest.” 

He pulled the shirt up slowly, carefully making sure it didn’t catch on Hongjoong’s head, peeling it off over his hair, and setting down on the bed. 

Hongjoong didn’t try to cover himself. Just stared up at Seonghwa expectantly. 

Jesus Christ, he was beautiful. 

Seonghwa could count three separate scars across his chest- one at his side, one between his ribs, and one across a pectoral. 

The rest was pale skin, lean and toned and soft- Cultivated and worked to be the most appealing for their line of work. Seonghwa went through the same thing. 

And Seonghwa noted that there were hundred of men and women who had seen Hongjoong like this, before Seonghwa ever had. 

But an almost smug feeling clung to his lips because none of them- 

Not a single one out of thousands- 

Would ever get Hongjoong like this. Not like Seonghwa had him. Not like he had Seonghwa. Seonghwa had been with just as many men and women- 

All of them were  _ dust  _ compared to Hongjoong. None of them had ever had Seonghwa like he wanted to give Hongjoong. 

It made him want to laugh. 

Hongjoong cleared his throat, tugging at Seonghwa’s hem, and Seonghwa jerked back to the reality of the situation. He trailed eyes over Hongjoong as he pulled his shirt off over his head, and the air was cold, but he didn’t shiver. 

Hongjoong’s eyes traced over his skin. Seonghwa had a few more scars and bumps than Hongjoong, but the other didn’t even seem to see them. 

This was their first time seeing this part of each other. 

Their first time being with someone like this. Giving someone this. 

A delicate hand came and touched his smooth stomach, trailing down it so gently it tickled. Hongjoong stared at it with the concentration of someone trying to draw from memory. “Holy shit, Seonghwa,” he whispered, eyes tracing his arms, his chest. 

Seonghwa leaned back down, lips twitching. “Don’t count yourself short,” he whispered, a warm hand trailing down Hongjoong’s side. 

He shivered at the touch. 

“Are you okay with marks?” Seonghwa asked quietly. His skin was so goddamn soft. 

Hongjoong nodded jerkily. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he assured him. 

Seonghwa dropped his head, pressing a sucking kiss to just below his collarbone. Hongjoong breathed out hard, fingers curling into the sheets tightly, body drawing into a tense line. 

It was completely different. Everything seemed electrified, like a live wire was running through and around both of them. Simple actions that had long since lost their impact suddenly felt like the spark of a lighter being flicked. 

It was a good enough distraction for Seonghwa to trail a hand to the waistband of Hongjoong’s sweatpants, fingers brushing against the warm skin there. Hongjoong jerked slightly, lifting his head to see- 

Seonghwa hushed him, rubbing a soothing circle to his hip. “I’ve got you,” he promised, Hongjoong swallowing. Seonghwa met his eyes purposefully.  “Just tell me if I need to stop.” 

He would stop in an instant. He would not take something from Hongjoong. Only accept what was given. 

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Keep going.” 

Seonghwa pulled the pants down slowly, lifting Hongjoong’s hips to get them down to his knees and then pulling them off one leg at  a time, tossing them aside. He maneuvered himself to slide his own pants off, heart pounding in his chest as Hongjoong watched him. 

Hongjoong’s legs looked longer than they were, smooth and pale, stark against the dark blankets of his bed. 

Seonghwa kissed him again, bare skin brushing bare skin, and it made both of them shiver, goosebumps rising as Hongjoong placed a hand against his bare chest. “Can I touch you?” Hongjoong whispered against his lips, and Seonghwa nodded, sealing their lips again. 

Hongjoong’s hands trailed everywhere, touching and brushing and scratching just light enough to feel- testing the expanse of Seonghwa’s skin. Down his chest and stomach, and then pressing a firm palm against his crotch- 

Seonghwa gasped into Hongjoong’s mouth, his hips giving an aborted jerk forward, but the hand was gone as soon as it came, Hongjoong trailing up his sides, making his skin feel like static. 

They left gentle burning trails behind as he moved, down his sides, across his abdomen, around his back- 

Hongjoong’s hands trailed over the scar on the lower left of Seonghwa’s back. 

Both of them jarred slightly, freezing in place, lips parting as they both waited for someone to make the first move. Hongjoong swallowed, touching the scar again gently, barely able to be felt. “You got this protecting me,” he whispered. 

There was no guilt. Only a statement of fact. 

Seonghwa nodded. “I’d do it again,” he assured him. Because he would.

Maybe a Seonghwa from a year ago wouldn’t have. Maybe he would. But Seonghwa would take a hundred bullets to keep him safe, to stop him from being hurt- 

They were both so tired of being hurt. 

“ _ I love you _ ,” Hongjoong whispered again, words falling quickly, like he didn’t have time to say them all, his hand falling away from the scar and trailing up his spine. “ _ Seonghwa _ , I love you, I love you so much-” 

He pulled Seonghwa down. 

It was searing and burning and there was so much between them- 

It was so slow. 

It was smouldering fingers tugging the last of their clothing off, leaving them exposed in a way they were both so familiar with, but it was nothing like that. It was completely new. Completely their own. Hongjoong against his sheets, naked and bared, and reaching for Seonghwa. 

And Seonghwa’s eyes fell over faint, lightly-purpled circles on the edge of Hongjoong’s hips. He traced a finger over them, Hongjoong glancing down, swallowing. “He was eager,” was all he said. 

Seonghwa hummed, examining the fingertip bruises before leaning down and kissing them softly. 

One of Hongjoong’s hand threaded through his hair, gentle and trembling. 

Seonghwa nipped at the skin lightly, feeling Hongjoong tighten the grip on his hair, before sucking on the skin softly, drawing a dark purple circle over them, covering them with his own. He moved to the other hip, doing the same thing- 

Hongjoong breathed short and shallow above him, small gasps slipping from his lips and a tiny whine that was quickly swallowed down. 

Seonghwa pulled away from the skin, kissing the love-spot softly. “Where else did he touch you?” he whispered quietly, calmly. 

Hongjoong let go of a shaking breath. “He liked my neck. And my chest.” 

Seonghwa moved slowly, neither of them in any hurry, pressing warm kisses to the skin of his neck, smelling the body wash from his shower, tangy and sweet. Cleansing the spots with loving kisses and gentle touches, imagining himself erasing every part of whatever man Hongjoong had been with, leaving only the warmth between them. Their feelings. Their desires. 

“ _ Seonghwa _ ,” he whispered, clutching at his shoulder as he kissed every inch, sucking lightly here and there, but leaving it mostly unmarred, biting light at the curve of his neck. 

He moved down, kissing along his collarbone and chest, decorating it with light bites and red scratches. Working his way passed his stomach and ending just above his hips again.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong panted, legs shifting. “Seonghwa, can you-” He broke off, nails digging lightly into Seonghwa’s shoulder. “ _ Please _ .” 

Seonghwa kissed the curve of his hip. “One second,” he whispered, rolling over, hearing Hongjoong huff at the loss, but he opened the drawer of his nightstand, grabbing the not-even-opened bottle inside there, and rolling back over. 

Hongjoong immediately kissed him, arms wrapping around his neck, breath coming quickly, both of them shaking against the other because this… 

This was it. 

“Can I go ahead?” Seonghwa whispered against his lips. Hongjoong nodded quickly. 

“Make love to me,” he murmured, and it sent another lightning strike through Seonghwa. 

And it was… 

So much. 

It was slow and burning and almost too much from the first touch- 

Hongjoong’s body arching and fingers grasping at Seonghwa’s skin, trying for purchase as Seonghwa prepped him carefully, slowly, meticulously. Long fingers reaching deep and slow, brushing and pressing and dragging. Hongjoong’s spine bending into pretty curves as a high breath was punched out of him, eyes closed and head thrown back, hair falling against the pillow. 

God, he was fucking beautiful. 

Seonghwa knew the sounds you were supposed to make to ensure the other person believed you were enjoying yourself. 

These were not them. 

One cool hand wrapped around his cock, and Hongjoong’s hips jerked reflexively, a litany of curses and gasps falling, pushing forward and then shoving back, chasing sensation and feeling and warmth- 

“Seonghwa, Seong- Fuck- Seonghwa, just-  _ Please- _ ” 

Seonghwa gave and gave as much as he could, kissing Hongjoong silent, and his own gut began to twist because just hearing Hongjoong- 

Just knowing that he was doing this to him… It was enough to make Seonghwa think he could come just from hearing Hongjoong breathe his name. 

But as desperate as Hongjoong was, it was slow. 

Not rapid, short strokes and thrusts, but deep and reaching and powerful. Bodies pressing for long moments before puling away and doing it all over again. 

Tears traced down Hongjoong’s cheeks as he crushed the sheets in his hand, neck exposed with his head thrown back, and Seonghwa kissed it as he brushed them away, whispering quiet words against his skin- 

“I love you-” 

“I love you-” 

“I love you-” 

And when Hongjoong whispered a quiet plea of “I’m ready,  _ Seonghwa _ , please-” Seonghwa pulled his fingers away, making Hongjoong whine, but he captured swollen lips in his, smouldering and flickering. 

Slow and burning and so much- 

Seonghwa’s eyes burned, but nothing escaped as he carefully lifted Hongjoong’s legs to his shoulders, kissing the inside of his calf and thigh, sucking on the skin there just because he could- 

“Seonghwa, Seonghwa,  _ Seonghwa- _ ” A jumbled mess, but quiet and soft and begging. 

Seonghwa hushed him, running warm hands across his skin. “Are you sure?” Seonghwa whispered, giving another out, and Hongjoong looked at him through crystalline eyes and thick lashes, nodding. 

“Yes- Yes, I want you, Seonghwa, I want all of you- Please, I love you-” 

And it was slow. 

Deep and languid- not shallow and quick. 

Hongjoong’s nails scraped red lines across Seonghwa’s back and shoulder, lithe body pushed further up the bed with each deep thrust of Seonghwa’s hips, legs twitching- 

Seonghwa’s hair fell across his forehead, and as much as he was focused on Hongjoong’s expression, searching for discomfort or rejection- 

He just watched him. Eyes closed tightly, mouth fallen open, low moans as his hands clung to Seonghwa, pulling him closer, closer, closer- 

It was so slow. 

Seonghwa had never done slow before. 

But it was so easy, knowing that he could keep seeing Hongjoong like this, dragging out the pitched moans and high gasps as he focused on finding each spot that made him jerk and twist. 

Seonghwa felt like fire was dancing across his skin. 

Hongjoong’s tiny, shaking body underneath his, pleasured moan of Seonghwa’s name slipping out, skin dragging and thin fingers dancing across Seonghwa’s tensed muscles. Seonghwa’s back bowed and curved as he moved, feeling like he could wrap Hongjoong’s entire body up within his own, until the line between the two of them blurred. 

“ _ Hongjoong _ ,” he panted, one hand finding Hongjoong’s at his shoulder and holding it, braced against the mattress. “Hongjoong, l-look at me,” he almost begged. 

Deep thrust. Hongjoong’s back arched even as he forced his eyes open, staring at Seonghwa and it was warm and open and surreal-

No one had ever looked at Seonghwa like that.  

“I love you,” Seonghwa whispered, gut twisting as Hongjoong squeezed his hand, dainty fingers holding on with all their might. 

It was a stunning realization… figuring out that you’re in love. 

Like the world exploding…. But then once the chaos stopped… there was only silence. 

“I love you.” 

And it really did seem so simple, looking back. Almost as if Fate had seen them, snickered to itself, and decided…  _ Oh, those two will have fun together _ . 

Hongjoong pulled him down, a searing kiss that bruised and desperately tried to be closer, closer still- The line between them blurring, smudging, until it was impossible to see where Seonghwa ended and Hongjoong began. 

“God,  _ Hongjoong,  _ I love you-” 

There was peace after the storm. A sort of… well, we made it through the worst, didn’t we? After a hurricane, a rainstorm no longer seemed so bad. 

After the end of the world… well, there wasn’t much left to worry about, was there? 

Bodies intertwined, limbs tangled, whispers overlapping with moans and names and gasps and whines- 

“I love you, Seonghwa-  _ ah-  _ for so long,  _ so long- _ ”

Soft lips sucked bruises into Hongjoong’s skin, making his writhe- 

A warm hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s cock, stroking slowly, in time with his hips, and Hongjoong cried out, sharp and pitched, hips jerking, Seonghwa’s name tumbling in an indistinguishable cry, nails digging and tears spilling, choking on his breaths-

White painted his hand and Hongjoong’s stomach. 

Seonghwa’s hips slowed, chest heaving, but Hongjoong tugged on his hand, shaking his head. “Go,” he demanded quietly. “Keep going, I want you to-  _ Seonghwa- _ .” 

And Seonghwa only hesitated a moment before continuing, Hongjoong’s lithe body writhing in the sheets beneath him, sensitive, spent, painted in the evidence of their actions. Hongjoong’s trembling hands stroking his cheek, gasps forcing their way from his lips, eyes locking onto Seonghwa’s, not letting him look away from soft, fiery eyes that commanded his attention.  He didn’t want to look away. 

Fingers tangled in his hair, other hand trailing down his chest, scratching, dragging, warm, making him shudder, stutter, cling to Hongjoong’s waist, burning- 

Hongjoong met him, thrust for thrust, never looking away, never letting go, but twisting and turning at his own sensitivity that raced through his blood- 

It was different. 

It was theirs. Nothing else-  _ no one  _ else- could ever compete, could ever even come close… could ever try and give more than a half-baked, fake attempt to provide the real thing. 

Nothing could ever be this. 

Nothing could ever be Hongjoong. 

He kissed him, tugging at his hair and fingers bruising along his shoulder, gasping as if it was all too much, not enough, just enough-  

Seonghwa came gasping Hongjoong’s name against his lips, body shuddering, arms almost giving from underneath him, a something like lightning racing down his body, hurting and burning, but incomparable to anything else- 

Lips moving against Hongjoong’s chest- “ _ I love you, I love you, I- _ ” 

Hongjoong’s cheek were wet. 

Seonghwa kissed the streaks, hands trailing across smooth skin, his muscles tired and loose- 

It was late. The hour tugged on his eyelids, body ready to shut down for the night, Hongjoong’s body still shaking beneath him.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispered, gentle fingers tracing his cheek, eyes staring like, once more, he couldn’t be sure that he was real.  “I love you.” 

It was all they could say. Languid lips against each other, basking in a warmth that was indescribable and all encompassing. What else could they say? What else could be true?

Hongjoong’s lips fell lazy, eyes struggling to stay open, and Seonghwa had to chuckle, kissing his cheek as he promised to be right back. Hongjoong didn’t let go until Seonghwa physically removed his hand, kissing it gently and laying it on the bed.  He wet a warm rag, dragging it across Hongjoong’s stomach and curve of his ass, cleaning up as Hongjoong hummed, eyes still closed. 

When he settled back against the sheets, he tugged Hongjoong over until his head rested against his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, making him shiver, and Seonghwa threw the blanket over both of them.

Silence. 

His chest felt tight as Hongjoong sighed against his skin. 

“Does this,” he murmured, half-asleep, “Change anything?” 

Seonghwa stared up at the dark ceiling. He almost asked what it could change. But that was stupid. 

It changed everything. 

But nothing. 

Their lives remained the same, but they were officially split open before each other. Every part known and tested and held and cared for. 

But it changed nothing. 

“Nothing’s changed,” He said comfortingly, rubbing Hongjoong’s shoulder absentmindedly. “Only… maybe that it’s something that could happen more often… If we wanted.” 

He could feel Hongjoong smile against his chest. “I’d like that.” 

God, Seonghwa  _ loved  _ him. 

“Me, too,” he whispered, voice catching. 

Doing it again. Doing it because they wanted to. Doing it for no other reason than…. Each other. 

And Seonghwa thought about a future with Hongjoong. 

A year had been so long- how did he imagine even longer than that?  He imagined continuing to come home, waiting up for him, kissing him goodnight, holding him for no reason, talking to him, figure out every little piece of him- 

Getting to touch and be touched by him. 

God, it was almost sickening how much he wanted it. Their chests rose and fell in sync. 

Seonghwa could not believe… could not fathom… how he got here. How in so little time, in such a slow process… how he had Hongjoong here, trembling in his arms, and kissing Seonghwa’s chest sleepily. Something so gentle and soft, it choked Seonghwa. 

How had the man he knew before come to this? 

How had who Seonghwa was before turned into this? 

He trailed fingers up and down Hongjoong’s spine. If he could fall asleep with Hongjoong… if he could keep waking up beside him… Seonghwa thought he could live happily. Finally. 

It changed everything. 

It changed nothing. 

It was just another piece to their little puzzle. Not the last piece- no, not by far- but  _ a  _ piece. Something to help them figure out what the whole picture could be. 

Seonghwa didn’t know what the full picture was supposed to be. 

But he was pretty sure it was of both of them.

“I love you,” he whispered, but he was pretty sure Hongjoong was already out. It didn’t matter. 

Seonghwa needed to tell it to himself, too. Would say it as many times as he wanted or needed. 

Seonghwa wanted to laugh. Because he had been right. 

He would never fuck Hongjoong. 

This… this was different. 

This was theirs. Special. 

He buried his nose in his hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo and leftover perfume.  

Seonghwa never imagined… a lot of things happening in this life. 

Liking Hongjoong. Giving up field work. Being with Hongjoong. Having more to life than his work. 

Being with someone in a way that he never thought possible, much less enjoyable. Having a body beside his that he  _ wanted _ . 

Loved. 

But if there was one person- if there was  _ one fucking person-   _ who could break through his stupid walls, could insert himself into every place that Seonghwa didn’t want him to be but needed him to be, could somehow be everything Seonghwa needed without knowing he needed it, could wiggle his way into every part of Seonghwa’s life regardless of how much he wanted him to be there- 

If there was anyone who could twist Seonghwa into a pretzel and make his insides turn to liquids-

If there was anyone that would be stupid enough to fall in love with Seonghwa-

It was Kim fucking Hongjoong. 

 

~~~~~~

 

“Holy  _ shit _ ! Yeosang!  _ Yeosang _ , go get Yunho, they fucked! Look at him, he’s got that fucking glow, they finally did it! Oh my god, I  _ thought  _ about it, and I’m gonna throw up-  _ Lee _ , I will rip your fucking eyes out if you look away from that computer screen one more time!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter ㅠ_ㅠ   
> I don’t want to say goodbye to this story, but I have to ㅠㅠ Maybe I’ll treat it like the royalty one and write some little one shot backstories and future scenes...   
> but thank you so much for reading!!   
> Let me know what you think, and thank you everyone for being so kind as I attempted this new type of concept for myself.   
> I’ll try to get that epilogue out as soon as possible!   
> I hope you all have an amazing day~  
> -SS


	8. A Happily Ever After (Sort Of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where is my self control?? I finish a chapter and then I have to post it immediately. I wanted to wait a couple days but you know what? Here’s the final chapter~  
> This has truly been a journey for me, as far as trying my hand at new things and everyone has been so amazing in supporting me through that.  
> Thinking about it, this is less like an epilogue and more of a Bonus Chapter. Just think of it as a little extra something!  
> Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me and supported me!  
> I hope you all enjoy this final chapter and I’ll see you next time!  
> -SS

Hongjoong always liked to dress up. The feeling of putting on clothes that left nothing to imagination, eyeliner sharp enough to kill someone, and hair artfully mussed to tempt hands to wander through it- 

It was exhilarating. Empowering. Especially when Hongjoong was young and new and getting high off of the feeling of having that sort of control over people- where he was irresistible. It was so much fun, running circles around people, poking and prodding until their tongues loosened and secrets spilled. 

And even as soon as a year ago… Hongjoong liked that job. Figured he was born for that job. 

Even while teasing and enraging a man who would never give him the time of day… he still liked doing that, even if that was what the man hated most about him (in Hongjoong’s mind). Because Hongjoong didn’t necessarily care what sort of attention Seonghwa was giving him, as long as he looked at him because Seonghwa… 

Seonghwa was fucking mesmerizing. From the moment Hongjoong saw him across the bar, his body sang with intrigue (at the time, completely sexual because Hongjoong hadn’t known another kind of intrigue could exist). 

Seonghwa was deadly and powerful, but he was controlled, like a piece of lightning caught inside a bottle. And Hongjoong had been around agents, been around strangers he fucked for work, and no one ever held the sort of control Seonghwa did. And when Hongjoong tried to be smart and funny and slowly try to pry those reins out of the man’s hands… The jolt he got when the other seemed to consider it, as if he truly did want to give that over to Hongjoong- 

And then the cutting swiftness with which he cut that down, pulling away from Hongjoong, walls slamming down and eyes blazing- 

Hongjoong needed to see more. 

And if that meant stepping on toes until he got noticed, then that was fine. If that meant standing with a gleeful smirk as Seonghwa yelled profanities at him, then so be it. Fiery, icy eyes that Hongjoong always found enthralling. 

Eyes that eventually… Hongjoong wanted to see softer. Kinder. A ridiculous notion, but one that wormed its way into his head. But he ignored it, because Seonghwa only held contempt for him, and again, Hongjoong didn’t care  _ what  _ sort of attention he was getting, he just wanted to hear Seonghwa, to see him, to observe and prod and poke just to see-

Seonghwa always seemed as if he was staring straight through Hongjoong. Straight through the leather and lace and make up and smirk… and burning a brand into Hongjoong’s soft underbelly. As if he could see all his secrets, every lie and faked laugh after Hongjoong came to his most vulnerable realization- and Hongjoong spend years waiting for something to be said. A flicker of his eyes, a twitch of his brow as he glared at Hongjoong- waited for Seonghwa’s anger to falter as he stared at Hongjoong and a confused whisper of “Why are you looking at me like that?” to fall down. 

Of course, it never did. And Hongjoong didn’t hold to hope, but it seemed like hope had dug its claws in early. 

He guessed maybe Seonghwa couldn’t see through him. All he saw was the surface. 

And Hongjoong continued playing his game of missions, meeting Seonghwa here and there, reveling in the man’s reactions and explosions because he hated Hongjoong. 

Even as Hongjoong threw himself at him. 

Even as Hongjoong offered himself readily… Seonghwa rejected him. Ardently.

And that was perhaps the biggest conundrum that Hongjoong faced in his life: he was completely serious, he wanted to have sex with Seonghwa. He wanted to see the ridiculously attractive agent above him, wanted to know what it felt like to be the people on their missions. 

But with each denial and snap that came from Seonghwa… something built in Hongjoong’s chest. Because he told Seonghwa this: Even if Seonghwa hated him… even if Seonghwa wanted him… he didn’t take the offer. He was not going to sleep with Hongjoong just because a pretty body was thrown in his path, and it only made hope grow more fervent at the thought that maybe- 

Maybe… 

Maybe Seonghwa was more than that. Maybe he saw Hongjoong as more than that. Maybe he was a better person than one to fuck someone they hated just because they found it frustrating (Hongjoong had been down that path before). Maybe it was possible… that one day… if Seonghwa ever found out more… maybe one day it could happen. 

Which was why it was such a jarring, mind-tearing realization when Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa one day and didn’t feel that pull to touch and prance away, playing their game. 

Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and Hongjoong’s eyes followed the act, his hand twitching by his side as the ghost of a thought wandered by: “I wonder if his hair is soft?” 

And it changed…. Everything. 

It tore Hongjoong apart down to his bones and tossed him back together like a picasso painting, all the pieces wrong, all the features askew. 

And seeing and meeting Seonghwa became an agony for him. Because the ghost of a thought turned to a more concrete form,  turned to a physical ache in his chest as Seonghwa scoffed and walked away, shoulders tensed and angry- angry at Hongjoong- 

But he couldn’t stop. Because by now, Hongjoong was in too deep. And he was never one to care very much about his own well-being. So even if seeing Seonghwa hurt, even if he continued to provide the spark that lit the other man’s rage… 

It was worth it. Just to see him. Just to be seen by him. Just to be reminded that there was one person in this world who looked at Hongjoong and didn’t just see something pretty to use. 

And yeah, it was fucked up, and it messed up his already-messed-up head to the extreme…. 

But what else could he do? What else was keeping him going through these missions, if not the thought that he would see Seonghwa there? What else made the nights worth it, if not the thought that one day soon, he’d see Seonghwa again and they would piss each other off, but Seonghwa still would not sleep with him?

Hongjoong still had fun on his missions. But the novelty had worn off. 

Because Hongjoong made the most fatal mistake an agent could make: he got attached. 

And even if Hongjoong was stupid enough to fall into Seonghwa’s orbit, he knew the other would never be able to feel anything but contempt for him. Hongjoong knew the only way Seonghwa would ever be with him was for a cheap fuck, and while Hongjoong’s sights had shifted from something so basic… 

If that was the only way he could ever be with Seonghwa, he would keep trying. Even if it did hurt. Not that Seonghwa  _ would _ ever sleep with him, but Hongjoong had to have  _ some  _ goal in mind. 

And then hitmen and running and his apartment and hotel rooms… 

And Seonghwa started looking at Hongjoong. And for the first time, it wasn’t with anger and disgust, and Hongjoong’s poor, pitiful heart clung to that without a second thought, ingraining the looks into his mind, locking them away and hiding them because he never knew if he would see them again, but if he didn’t, he wanted to remember what Seonghwa looked like when he stared at him like that. 

And hope only grew, but it only made it harder to fake, harder to lie, harder to hold back because Seonghwa was right here, and he didn’t hate Hongjoong right now, and Hongjoong never thought it was possible. He was so fucking lost already, so fucking ready to throw himself to Seonghwa in whatever way Seonghwa wanted- 

And then Seonghwa told him.. 

He told him… 

That he didn’t want Hongjoong’s body. Didn’t want him to just be a doll for him to play with. 

He didn’t want a meaningless fuck. 

He wanted more. Meaning. Feeling. 

And he had almost broken down then and there.  _ Get someone outside of work, _ Seonghwa said, as if the only person Hongjoong could ever imagine being with wasn’t laying in the bed next to him. 

And Hongjoong… he couldn’t take it anymore. Terrified and shaking and about to vomit, he touched Seonghwa. Soaking up the warmth of his hand like a plant towards the sun. And Seonghwa didn’t pull away. Didn’t snap in anger. 

And Hongjoong asked to kiss him....And Seonghwa said yes.

He said  _ yes _ .  

And everything inside of Hongjoong- all the confusion of wanting anything but wanting something specific, all the years of looking and waiting and hoping, all the fear and coils of self-doubt, all the years of rejections and anger- 

It all came spilling out across his cheeks as he kissed Seonghwa, and it wasn’t what he thought it would be. It wasn’t tongue and heat and taking… Hongjoong was too scared. Too frightened. 

Hongjoong wanted more. He had to show Seonghwa that he could be more. 

He touched Seonghwa, felt his skin, and something in his chest clicked into place. And in Hongjoong’s blood, it felt so right, he felt like he was slowly coming apart at the seams. Like there was nothing holding him together and just a breath from Seonghwa could tear him apart. 

And then the nightmare came. 

And Seonghwa was still there. 

And secrets passed between them like glass hearts held together with still-wet glue. 

And Seonghwa was looking at him, telling Hongjoong that he would stop without hesitation, and Hongjoong’s still terrified, still addled brain needed to see it, needed him to prove it. 

Because… Because it was Seonghwa. And Hongjoong wanted-  _ needed-  _ to prove that he was right, that he was correct in his assumptions about Seonghwa- that Seonghwa was right, that he wouldn’t take advantage, that he wouldn’t finally take just because Hongjoong pushed- 

He stopped. 

And Hongjoong wanted to dissolve into salt water. 

And their violent, turbulent, ready-to-go-up-in-flames relationship was twisting and turning and looping, changing itself into something… different. Something else. 

And Hongjoong could just sit back and bask in it, letting go of his fear in a desperate attempt to take what he could while he could get it, waiting for Seonghwa to pull back completely, waiting for the hands to shove him away, the tongue to come lashing out harshly. 

And Seonghwa retreated. He hid and flinched and withdrew… but he never left. Never wandered far, standing his ground even as he shook in his boots with fear. When Hongjoong reached out, he took his hand, hesitant and nervous, but he took it and he held it, and Hongjoong was ready to fucking melt after so long- 

The sight of Seonghwa, pale and covered in blood, voice pinched with pain, blood staining the carpet, his back a mess of red and dark, would never leave Hongjoong for as long as he lived. 

The feeling of being pressed to Seonghwa’s chest as his body jerked with a bullet’s impact. 

Hongjoong didn’t think about that. Couldn’t. He had to focus on the present because the past held too many landmines.  

The present… The present where Seonghwa would smile at him, sleep beside him, wake him with gentle kisses to his forehead. Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa, who gave everything Hongjoong thought he could never have. 

Seonghwa. Who was everything Hongjoong thought he could never have. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Hongjoong’s legs were killing him. 

It was bad enough having to wait around for people to show up at these sleazy bars, but they didn’t even have the decency to go to a bar that wasn’t so full that there was no seating anywhere? Four hours, standing and waiting, and the stupid heels on his boots were giving him a blister. 

And his mouth tasted like vomit. 

He shoved the key into the lock, hearing it click and shoving it open. 

Immediately he was hit with the familiar scent of Seonghwa and cleaning supplies, accented with cinnamon apple air freshener. 

Hongjoong paused at the door, taking a deep breath and feeling the day melt off his shoulders. 

It was good to be home. 

Even better was Seonghwa sitting on the couch, laptop on his knees, glancing up at the door opening, blinking in surprise as Hongjoong came in the rest of the way. 

He was dressed for bed- just sweats and a t-shirt, his hair flat and mussed from running hands through it for work. Hongjoong never got over how breathtaking he was, like it was the first time all over again. Even better than the lace and the suits and the leather- 

Because only Hongjoong got to see this Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “It’s not even midnight,” he noted, closing the computer and setting it aside. “You’re home early.” 

Hongjoong kicked his shoes off at the door, knowing that Seonghwa would complain that he didn’t set them aside neatly, but that was a problem for later, breathing a sigh of relief as his feet were released from their leather prison. 

“He was pretty easy,” Hongjoong said, shrugging as he padded into the kitchen. “I ate at the bar, but do we have anything sweet to eat? I need to clean out my mouth after that guy tried to choke me with his fucking tongue- I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to drink vodka without gagging ever again.” 

He opened the cabinets, finding Seonghwa’s little stash of sweets that claimed were for emergencies. 

He grabbed a chocolate mint treat and popped two in his mouth, chewing as he grabbed water from the fridge, chasing away the dehydration and slight alcohol stuck to his throat. 

“Was it that bad?” Seonghwa asked from the living room, and Hongjoong put the water back, heading towards where he stood from the couch. 

“No,” he sighed, arms crossed. “He was just gross.” He shuddered. “I’m pretty sure he threw up in the bathroom, like, ten minutes before I got to him.” He pretended to gag, and Seonghwa chuckled, coming up to stand in front of him. 

“Poor thing,” he cooed, arms rubbing up and down Hongjoong’s bare ones. “But you’re home early, so at least you’ll be able to get some actual sleep, yeah?” He pressed a light kiss to his forehead, and Hongjoong had to resist the urge to melt. 

It was so fucking sweet, he wanted to gag and melt at the same time. 

“Seonghwa,” he murmured, uncrossing his arms and dragging them up his chest, looping them around his neck slowly, “I just spent an hour with the most vile human being touching me in every place I reserve for you,” he chuckled, pushing up onto his feet so their lips brushed. “Sleep is the last thing on my mind right now.” 

Seonghwa laughed, rubbing warm hands over Hongjoong’s skin, and Jesus Christ, how was he always so warm? But Hongjoong was only paying attention to the gentle chuckle that made his brain light up in fireworks. 

He loved Seonghwa laugh. Loved when something made him fucking lose it, unprotected and care free. The deep ones in his chest that Hongjoong could feel in his soul when he laid on him. 

Seonghwa kissed him, short and sweet. “So what do you want me to do about it?” he questioned innocently, as if this wasn’t a game they played. 

But that’s where they were. 

They could make it a game now. 

Hongjoong remembered a time where he was terrified to joke, to flirt, to be seen as not taking it seriously- 

But they had freedom now. They had assurance. 

And Hongjoong twisted his fingers into the back of Seonghwa’s hair, smiling against his lips as he trailed his other hand down his chest. “I want you to erase every part of him until there’s nothing left but you.” 

And then suddenly, his back was to the wall, Seonghwa’s hand directing his chin to gain better access to his mouth, and there was a moment where Hongjoong took stock- any panic? Any signs that this was a no-go right now? 

But all he felt was excitement and desire thrumming through his veins as he pulling Seonghwa closer, chasing away vile hands and crude mouths with warm touches and sweet kisses that pulled the breath from his lungs. 

This… this made it all worth it. 

Hongjoong could fool around with these people, sleep around and have sex until the break of dawn because none of it fucking mattered. 

He no longer revolved around his own hesitancies and wonders of what he was doing with his life. Before… 

Before he had nothing. Just a body made to be fucked and gain information. A flirty personality that disgusted more people than it impressed. 

Including the one person he wanted most. 

God, he could still feel those greasy hands tugging at him. Without breaking away, Hongjoong grabbed Seonghwa’s hands, guiding them until they held his own. And Seonghwa didn’t need anymore guiding than that, taking both of Hongjoong’s wrists into one hand and pinning them above his head to the wall. 

This was a part of Hongjoong he never thought he would get back. This ability to trust and give over…. Everything. 

Hongjoong never thought he would ever  _ want  _ to be restrained again. He could tolerate it, but eagerly going back to that scene… He didn’t think it was truly possible. 

But Seonghwa had proven a lot of things to be possible. 

Every touch was like bleach against a stain. And Hongjoong found it so fucking easy to just let Seonghwa erase every touch that another had placed. 

Including the ones around his wrists. 

Hongjoong trusted Seonghwa with…  _ everything _ . Because Seonghwa had proven trustworthy. Again and again and again and again- 

Until Hongjoong’s breath ran out,  _ again and again-  _

Seonghwa had proven to be everything. His everything. And when the older man took part of that power from Hongjoong, when he stopped Hongjoong from participating and just made him lay there and feel, providing everything for him, focused intently on drawing out the most desperate of sounds from his chest- 

Rough and fast and tugging and directing, but never painful, never suffocating, never caging. 

It was intoxicating. Enthralling. Mesmerizing. Because it felt like the first time all over again, something Hongjoong would never fully be unaffected by, knowing that there was someone- 

That he had someone who he could trust, that he had trusted and had not been burned for. (He would be honest. It was during these times that the weight in his chest released pressure through his eyes, and Hongjoong would be embarrassed by how often he cried if it wasn’t so goddamn valid a reaction.) 

Tongues twisting, Hongjoong thrust his hips forward roughly, thick leather dragging against soft sweatpants, Seonghwa’s free hand catching his hips and chuckling against his lips. 

“This seems like something that would be better provided in the bedroom,” he stated. 

Hongjoong’s lips twisted in a fiery smirk that he gained back after months. “I’m down for wall sex,” he said, hips rutting forward again, chasing Seonghwa, who actually let him move, fire racing up his gut and settling in his stomach. 

Seonghwa snorted. “That’s because you don’t have to do anything,” he said, dropping Hongjoong’s wrists slowly, kissing his neck and making his head tilt to give more space. “But I’m too tired for that, so we’re going to the bed.” 

And God, there was a time when Hongjoong waited years to hear those words. 

Any sort of acceptance. Any sort of reciprocation. 

And then he got an “I love you” instead, and it still killed him inside, if he thought too long on it. It twisted and stabbed and hurt in the best way possible because he had wanted a simple fuck, anything- 

And then he got this. 

Gentle kisses along his neck, and hands catching the swell of his ass, lifting him up, nipping and sucking, Hongjoong’s legs wrapping around Seonghwa’s waist instinctively, his crotch rubbing against his abdomen, making him laugh against Seonghwa’s skin. And Seonghwa retaliated by squeezing his ass, and Hongjoong only used his legs to drag his cock against Seonghwa stomach once more, making him huff. 

God, it was  _ fun _ . Like pure adrenaline running through his veins. 

Hongjoong’s arms wound around his neck, and he kissed him, always loving when he was able to get the higher vantage point. Seonghwa began to carry him towards the bedroom. 

And fuck if Hongjoong still didn’t get a little weak in the knees if he thought too much about everything because this- 

This was his. Just his. 

Years of accepting scorn as his only form of attention, turned into gentle hands catching his back and laying him down against the mattress gingerly, and Hongjoong’s chest tightened, fingers clinging to Seonghwa because that’s all Hongjoong could do when this happened. 

Just kiss and hold on and pull closer because that was all he wanted, just Seonghwa, closer and closer- 

That was all he wanted. 

It was different, even from the first time they slept together. Hongjoong was different. 

He wasn’t quite so desperate as before, after a rough night or a shitty stranger. If he was pushing and pushing, it was no longer out of a  _ need _ to be closer, but a desire. He no longer felt  panic when Seonghwa would pull away, no longer felt that fear that made him draw him back, trying to use him as an eraser that he scrubbed at his skin with. 

He was better now, he thought. Not so unstable, more settled in where he was. He had found a balance between Seonghwa and work. A still-working-out-the-kinks one, but a balance. 

Seonghwa was too gentle as he pulled away, shifting Hongjoong carefully further up on the bed. “What do you want tonight?” he asked quietly against the skin of his arm, kissing the thin bicep gently. 

Anything. Everything. Whatever Seonghwa wanted. That’s all he ever wanted. 

“First of all,” he said, fisting his own shirt. “Out of these clothes. My dick cannot currently breathe.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, but nodded, sitting back and using quick fingers, unbuttoning the see-through lace shirt. “It looks good on you,” he said casually as he worked it open. 

Hongjoong scoffed, one leg coming to wrap around Seonghwa’s waist, tugging at him and throwing him off balance. “Everything looks good on me.” 

Seonghwa glanced up, eyes gleaming. “Everything looks even better off of you.” 

Hongjoong laughed, shaking his head sharply, his heart fucking soaring because that’s the power Seonghwa held over him. Turning him into a fucking sunshine box that had light coming out of his ass. “Stop, you’ll make me blush,” he huffed, lips unable to drop the smile on them. 

God, he hated how much control he didn’t have around Seonghwa. 

Not that he wanted it. But it was something to take note of. 

“Where?” Seonghwa asked, lips brushing his shoulder, and Hongjoong felt the skin tingle agonizingly. 

He swallowed around the rock in his throat. “Neck,” he murmured, breath catching. “And he almost tore my pants getting them off to get his hand on my dick. He kept sticking his tongue down my throat, too.” 

Seonghwa hummed, simply sliding his lips to Hongjoong’s neck, and he just  _ erased _ . It had grown… softer with time. It took less- barely even a brush of skin- for Hongjoong to smile and feel as if the night had never even happened. 

It was the best thing he could have. Seonghwa, here, waiting and watching when he got home. And Hongjoong had never been one to get teary, but everytime Seonghwa simply dragged a single gaze over Hongjoong when he got home, taking in every detail and just knowing- 

Just fucking knowing whether he needed to get up and immediately pin Hongjoong against a wall and tear off everything that these other men and woman had touched, or he simply pulled Hongjoong into a tight hug, kissed the top of his head, and whispered something about starting a bath for him, he fucking melted like a teenage romance protagonist. 

Seonghwa was good at that. At knowing. And maybe Seonghwa was a better agent because he picked up on Hongjoong a lot better than Hongjoong could pick up on him. Maybe because Seonghwa was always a little more stoic about things, or maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as subtle as the thought he was. 

Regardless, Seonghwa would pull away before Hongjoong even realized something was wrong. 

And Seonghwa would take one look at him, and tell him to take a warm shower, and he’d be waiting for him. 

(His favorite were those nights when people were a little too rough, and he could barely walk for the pain along his spine, and Seonghwa scooped him up and carried him to the bed. Where he rolled Hongjoong over carefully, eyes tight with a desire to ease the pain, and he rubbed his back until Hongjoong relaxed and fell asleep, a hot pad resting beside him to replace his hands once Hongjoong finally fell still.) 

Sometimes, Hongjoong was waiting for himself to wake up. 

To jerk back to reality in his little apartment, his alarm going off, telling him to start another day of flaunting himself and returning home to said pitiful apartment. 

But then Seonghwa kissed him, hands firm and protective against his skin, Hongjoong’s name falling from his lips, followed by quiet whispers of “love, I love you-” 

And there was nothing this could be but real. 

And Hongjoong would cry if he thought about that, too. 

Seonghwa moved to run his lips over Hongjoong chest, pulling away to unzip the skin-tight leather, lip quirking. “It’s a wonder the guy could get you out of these at all.” 

Hongjoong knocked him with his knee, huffing. “It was more of a pain in my ass than his.” 

And Seonghwa simply chuckled, pulling them down, hands rubbing at the red marks made from the seams, eyes trailing over faded bruises on his thighs from a few nights ago. He took a moment to suck a new bruise there, Hongjoong sighing harshly at the action, before Seonghwa had his pants off completely, taking his underwear down with it in one movement. 

“Come on,” Hongjoong urged, head falling back to sigh. “ _ Seonghwa _ , touch me-” 

Hongjoong hadn’t even heard the click of a cap,but all at once, Seonghwa’s tongue was in his mouth, clearing away the taste of vodka and strangers, and a cold hand wrapped around his dick, and Hongjoong cried out sharply into Seonghwa’s mouth, entire body spasming at the sudden overload that lit a fire across his skin- 

Hongjoong loved it. Seonghwa paying attention to everything, leaving nothing untouched, drawing out every pretty sound he could, and Hongjoong held nothing back. (Not that he could, even if he wanted to.)

He had no qualms of screaming Seonghwa’s name. (He didn’t think Seonghwa minded either.) 

But he rarely had the lung capacity and mental capability for that. Mostly, it was desperate whispers and cut off gasps of “Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seongh-” as if it was the only thing he could say. 

It was certainly the only thing he was thinking of, limbs twisting as Seonghwa didn’t let up on his hard strokes for even a moment, giving him no time to gain his bearings other than to gasp the other’s name like he could understand what it meant.

The only thing flowing passed his lips as he lay there and just let Seonghwa tear him part, holding and dusting off the pieces, before sticking them back together gently, carefully, making sure nothing was out of place. 

And the process would repeat, Hongjoong just letting himself fall apart as much as he needed, knowing that Seonghwa’s hands were waiting there to catch the pieces.  

Hongjoong never expected something real. 

Even when all he wanted was a quick fuck with Seonghwa, he never expected Seonghwa to enjoy himself. He expected to trick himself into believing that maybe there could be something more, that maybe they were both into this, but he had resigned himself to lying. They could never be something real. 

But in his apartment, hotel, hospital, home- each  _ agonizing  _ step- every fucking inch that Seonghwa seemed to physically drag out of himself- every hesitant step that took weeks to accomplish- each quiet whisper and smallest give from Seonghwa that had to be coaxed and lead and guided- 

Each of them, a statement of acceptance. Of saying, yes, I want this, yes, this is real- 

“Is this good?” Seonghwa whispered against his lips, finally allowing Hongjoong to breathe. 

Yes, yes, it was fucking everything, it was amazing, it was Seonghwa- 

It was all Hongjoong needed. 

All Hongjoong thought he could never have. 

“Yes,” he gasped, hips jerking, head falling back as his gut twisted dangerously. “S-Seonghwa, if you don’t slow down, I’m going to come so fucking fast.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that,” he murmured, twisting his wrist, and making Hongjoong see stars as his eyes slammed shut, trying to focus on not letting go of everything. 

He was a trained fucking agent, not a teenager jerking off in his room. 

But this wasn’t a stranger he was fucking for duty, it was  _ Seonghwa _ . 

And Hongjoong had no inhibitions where he was concerned. 

He had him. 

“ _ Seonghwa- _ ” 

All of him. 

“Seonghwa, I-  _ Fuck- _ ” 

Everything Hongjoong had ever wanted to give him. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Hongjoong.” 

Everything that Hongjoong had resigned himself to never have. 

“Come for me, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong’s chest heaved, the boulder in his chest finally spilling from his eyes, hips jerking, trying to meet Seonghwa’s pace, but everything was fuzzed, just fire and lightning and Seonghwa- 

“Seonghwa, I lo-  _ Ah _ !” 

Hongjoong’s body seized, head thrown against the pillow and back arching off the bed, spilling across Seonghwa’s hand that kept moving, sending spark of pleasure pain through him, a litany of curses and Seonghwa’s name yelled into the air until Seonghwa slowed and then stopped, leaving Hongjoong limp against the bed, limbs feeling like lead. 

Seonghwa kissed his shoulder lazily.

He felt… good. Scrubbed free of every touch that wasn’t Seonghwa. 

Each rough hand and spat slur and greedy touch replaced with just Seonghwa and loving traces against his skin, careful and calculated and attentive and pure- 

He loved Seonghwa so fucking much. 

He couldn’t breathe most of the time. It still felt so surreal even after so long. It was something he could never get used to hearing or saying, even if it was easy after a time. 

Seonghwa chuckled, nuzzling his nose against the pulsepoint of Hongjoong’s neck. “I love you,” he whispered, and after months, Seonghwa could finally say it first. 

And Hongjoong’s tears had stopped already, but they threatened to start back up as he tucked his head against Seonghwa’s neck, breathing in his scent and just letting it wash over him. 

And then there was Seonghwa, clearing away his skin, kissing him lightly, drawing Hongjoong to his chest and holding him there. 

“I love you,” he whispered back, slowly gaining back his coherence that was immediately taken away by tiredness. 

“Going to sleep?” Seonghwa asked, fingers trailing down his spine. 

Hongjoong hummed. “You should, too. You’ve got the early meeting tomorrow.” 

“Why would I fall asleep when I could stay up and watch you after I didn’t see you all day?”

Hongjoong poked his side weakly. “Leave the flirting to me.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, kissing his forehead with warm lips. “Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here.” 

Seonghwa was right here. 

He was always right here. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Hongjoong never imagined getting... This. 

This sort of… support. This presence constantly at his back, coloring everything he did. 

Never imagined having Seonghwa beside him, behind him, around him… 

And Seonghwa made living so much easier. He made breathing effortless and continuing on painless… 

He colored and flavored each of Hongjoong’s night, making each its own shining beacon to hold onto and think of when life came at him fast. 

Like that night, so long ago, where Hongjoong was struck with the lightning realization that he wanted Seonghwa to love him in the most intimate way he could imagine. Something Hongjoong had never even considered until that moment, Seonghwa’s eyes widening, body tensing, and Hongjoong was terrified he had scared him off, but he… 

Seonghwa never left. Never pulled away. Never pushed away. 

God, Hongjoong just wanted to be touched by him. Wanted to touch him. 

Just holding his hand, poking his cheek, pressing their shoulders together, it felt like everything he had never had before. Physical intimacy without the obligation of making the other come. The ability to touch without needing to escalate, needing to start tearing at clothing. 

Seonghwa never denied him a touch, and Hongjoong really didn’t think he should get as much comfort as he did from it. 

He remembered a night, returning after a particularly rough missions that left him with bruised wrists and a thin cut on his cheek after  _ someone  _ got upset when Hongjoong tried to play coy. He apparently didn’t want to play games. Just fuck. And Hongjoong completed the mission, dragging himself home, massaging his wrists and just feeling like utter shit. 

Before, he would have gone home, crawled into bed, and stayed there, maybe trying to play around on his mixing laptops, but ultimately just staring at the darkness until he either fell asleep or the sun rose, body still aching. 

Now… 

Now, he pushed open the door, assaulted with the familiar scent of air freshener and Seonghwa, and he closed the door, leaning against it, closing his eyes against the headache that had long since becoming painful. 

He had barely taken three breaths before footsteps rushed towards him, stopping a distance away. “Hongj-” 

Seonghwa choked off staring at him. It was usual to have the common bruises on your wrists and hips, but his eyes trailed over the clotted blood on his cheek. “What-” 

Hongjoong pushed off the door, walking to Seonghwa slowly, simply stepping forward until his bowed head hit Seonghwa chest, breathing in his scent as one hand came and curled in his shirt. 

His other arm snaked around his waist, pulling him close, basking in the warmth and familiar body. Seonghwa’s arms came around him slowly, testing whether Hongjoong would react negatively, but he simply pressed closer, urging Seonghwa to hold him tighter. 

And it fixed exactly nothing, but it felt good. It felt… 

Seonghwa would never hurt him. Regardless of if they had their clothes on or not, Seonghwa was the one place he was safe, completely and totally. 

Hongjoong shuddered when he rubbed a hand up and down his back, resting his chin on the top of his head. “I’m tired,” Hongjoong muttered, muffled by his shirt. 

Seonghwa squeezed him lightly. “Do you want a bath?” he asked, and Hongjoong’s throat began to close up because it was- 

It was just so fucking Seonghwa. Seonghwa, who was careful and delicate with him but never hesitant. Seonghwa, who decided he no longer wanted to do field work, but who was there when Hongjoong got home, ready to do whatever it was Hongjoong needed, as someone who kept going out there. 

Be it a hug. Food. A hot bath. A gentle massage. Using his hands and lips to erase the day from his skin. 

Hongjoong never failed to just want to fall into Seonghwa, just trusting him to hold him up, keep his head above water- 

Did Hongjoong want to get this stupid make up and shit off of his face? Yes. Was he conscious enough to do that? No. 

It wasn’t as if Hongjoong never did a thing for Seonghwa. But it always seemed like Seonghwa was able to provide so much more often. 

“I’m tired,” he repeated, shoulders dragging forward, and Seonghwa kissed the top of his head gently. 

“Okay.” 

Hongjoong prided himself on his ability to drag Seonghwa away from work that could now follow him home, closing his laptop and making Seonghwa chase him around to get it back, but by then his concentration was broken, so Hongjoong won anyway. 

He loved the sight of Seonghwa falling asleep under Hongjoong’s hands that rubbed the tension from his shoulders, from hunching over his laptop all day. 

Loved when he could soothe the frown between his brows as he stared at reports, and Hongjoong played with his fingers absentmindedly until Seonghwa glanced at him and his lips twitched. 

Seonghwa guided Hongjoong along, never letting him go as he brought both of them to bedroom. He sat Hongjoong on the bed, whispering a quiet- “You need to let go of me for a minute.” 

And Hongjoong didn’t want to, but he let Seonghwa pull away, the other digging in the drawers and setting pajamas on the bed beside Hongjoong. “Get changed,” he said quietly, taking Hongjoong’s hands in his, examining his red wrists with a frown. “Do you want something for them?” 

Hongjoong shook his head. It was just a skin bruise, they would be fine by tomorrow. Seonghwa nodded, running a feather light finger along them before nodding.  “I’ll be right back.” 

And Hongjoong was ready to fall asleep in these uncomfortable leathers, but he nodded as Seonghwa left. 

Hongjoong loved Seonghwa. 

And if there was anything in his life he was sure of… it was that Seonghwa loved him back. For so long, he had kept dark inhibitions close to his chest, scared of letting them see the light of day, but.. 

What if Seonghwa was just catering to him? What if one day, he realized he had made a mistake and Hongjoong wasn’t who he thought? What if one day he realized he deserved better? 

What if… what if one day, Hongjoong woke up? 

He didn’t doubt Seonghwa. But he couldn’t help it because like Seonghwa was fond of reminding him… eight years was a long time to hate someone. 

He pulled on the soft pajamas, a little warmer, as Seonghwa came back with makeup wipes in one hand and rubbing alcohol in the other. 

Hongjoong sat there, one hand resting on Seonghwa’s knee as the other carefully wiped the eyeliner and mascara off, clearing the foundation that smoothed out his skin. Hongjoong simply closed his eyes and leaned into the warm palm of his hand cradling Hongjoong’s cheek, letting him work, chest tight because Seonghwa was always so fucking gentle- 

Hongjoong no longer held those worries. Even his self-doubting mind couldn’t question Seonghwa’s gentle movements, soft touches, quiet whispers, hidden smiles, bright eyes… Seonghwa had provided too much evidence to the contrary. 

Seonghwa dabbed at the cut with the rubbing alcohol. “Did he punch you?” he questioned, tickling fingertips tracing the cut. 

“Tried to,” Hongjoong muttered. “His ring caught me.” 

Seonghwa hummed, working quietly. “Want me to track him down and break his legs?” 

And Hongjoong managed a tired laugh, opening his eyes to look up at Seonghwa whose eyes were dark with a desire to fix everything. He wanted to fix everything so badly. 

Hongjoong didn’t need him to. 

“I don’t want you to go anywhere right now,” He said, resting his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, letting him take his weight. 

“What about after you fall asleep?”

Hongjoong laughed, his heart swelling, and he had to wonder how he could ever breathe around Seonghwa. “Just stay right here,” he requested. 

“Come here,” Seonghwa whispered, pulling Hongjoong, who whined because he didn’t want to move, but Seonghwa just kept pulling and tugging until they both laid at the top of the bed, Hongjoong’s upper body resting on Seonghwa’s chest as Seonghwa locked arms around him, like a safety strap securing him down. 

Hongjoong relaxed at his chest, listening to his heart beat. 

Hongjoong had never had the luxury to let his job affect him. You weren’t allowed to feel bad after you slept with someone because you were doing the right thing. You couldn’t afford to let yourself be shaken by someone who was rougher than you anticipated. You had no time to let what you doing consume you. 

You had to keep that inside of you 

And Hongjoong wouldn’t call what he was doing fun, but… 

Seonghwa was right here. Waiting for him. 

It didn’t matter what happened out there. Didn’t matter what he had to do or put up with because here… at the end of every day, every mission, he came here and there was Seonghwa. 

Someone to kiss the bruises and wipe away a stranger’s touch- 

Someone to go behind his back when he had too many nights with too little sleep and call Eden, saying Hongjoong wasn’t going to be coming in for a few days, leaving no room for arguments. 

Someone who asked him if he was sure he wanted to keep living like this, keep going out there, stroking his cheek with worried eyes that made Hongjoong smile gently. 

Hongjoong considered following Seonghwa, resigning from field work, and not having to deal with all this shit, but… 

Not yet. Maybe one day. Maybe one day, he would but for now... For now, it was enough to have someone to come home to. Because the bad days were actually pretty few and far between. Hongjoong didn’t think he had come home like this in almost a month. 

Seonghwa’s chest rose and fell, his fingers carding through Hongjoong’s hair slowly, and that alone was enough to start shoving him into the darkness of sleep. He loved Seonghwa’s touch. 

Both of them were touch starved. In the strangest way possible of living a life covered in the hands of strangers. But it made sense. It made sense that they craved each other’s proximity and touch, and neither of them had reservations about giving it. 

A real touch. A meaningful one. 

Hongjoong’s chest was constantly filled with heavy stones of emotions that he had never felt before, but had gotten so used to choking on. 

Seonghwa had once hated him. Hongjoong had once wanted to fuck him. It was startling and terrifying how far the two had come. And sometimes… sometimes Hongjoong was a little shit and shook his ass at Seonghwa, asking if he still liked it as much as that first night. And sometimes Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong’s outfit before he went out to the store and asked why he didn’t tell him he was going on a mission. 

And it was okay to say that. 

Those wounds had healed. 

Not all of them, of course. But the most superficial, the most easily-bandaged. There was nothing left festering between them. Nothing hidden beneath fear and fake laughs. 

When Hongjoong was pushing a little too hard, Seonghwa told him. And when Seonghwa’s grip was a little too tight, Hongjoong told him- 

Life became so fucking simple when they just  _ talked  _ to each other. 

When Seonghwa was no longer afraid to pull Hongjoong into his lap and ask for a hurried kiss. When Hongjoong was no longer afraid to ask for Seonghwa to be rougher with him. When neither of them was afraid to provide what the other wanted, knowing that if something were going to fly south- 

They would  _ tell  _ each other. 

Sometimes, they didn’t have to. Sometimes, they just knew. Body language was one thing they had gotten good at reading over time. 

Like when Hongjoong didn’t want or need to be touched anywhere intimate, just wanted to be able to feel Seonghwa’s pulse. 

Seonghwa breathed beneath him, his heart beating out a steady  _ boom, boom, boom-  _ “You okay?” he whispered, a silent question for if more or less was needed. 

Hongjoong swallowed, throwing one arm across Seonghwa’s waist, holding on tightly. “Yeah,” he breathed. He didn’t need anything else. Just this was good. 

Seonghwa kissed the top of his head, the hand dropping from his hair to rub along his back. Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered closed, focusing just on the heartbeat, the hand on his back, the warmth pressing against him….

“I love you,” Seonghwa whispered, and Hongjoong’s throat was too tight to say it back, but he just nodded, and Seonghwa understood. 

Hongjoong didn’t know how he got here. Didn’t know what country he saved in a past life to get something like this. But honestly?

He didn’t really care. 

Fate would have to pry it out of his cold dead hands. 

It was no longer a dream. No longer a fantasy he used to torture himself with. 

He buried his nose in Seonghwa’s shirt. 

Seonghwa was real. Not wisps of dream that faded as soon as he tried to remember them. Not holographic bars that fuzzed in and out when he tried to touch him. 

Solid. Real. Warm. Sturdy. 

Hongjoong had him. 

Hongjoong love him. 

Seonghwa had him. 

Seonghwa loved him. 

And Hongjoong honestly didn’t give a shit what the future brought. 

It was a future with Seonghwa. Anything else was irrelevant. 

There didn’t need to be sex- neither slow and aching, nor fast and sating. Could want, but didn’t need, rutting hips and gasping breaths and wandering hands and racing blood- He didn’t need it. 

There just had to be Seonghwa. 

That’s all he had ever needed. Even when he didn’t know he needed it. 

Just Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong wasn’t asleep. There was nothing to wake up from. 

Only something to wake up to. 

Just Seonghwa. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooooo it’s finished!!!!!  
> My next work has basically been decided as a vampire au, BUT I’m gonna take a small break from writing so quickly and try to get the whole plot in order before I start. So I hope that wait isn’t too long, but it won’t be so quick as I started this one! I just don’t want to get burnt out. I’ll post some updates on my Twitter as far as how that’s going.  
> As always, let me know what you guys thought, and feel free to send any sort of message to my Twitter or CC!  
> You guys are amazing!  
> See you next time!  
> -SS

**Author's Note:**

> I hope nothing was too rushed or awkward! Let me know anything you see wrong or that I could do better!  
> Comments are my bread and butter!  
> Thank you, lovelies!  
> -SS


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